


Larger than Life

by TooSel



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Acting, Alternate Professions, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Angst, Broadway, Engagement, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meeting the Family, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Smut, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 171,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooSel/pseuds/TooSel
Summary: Following his dream of becoming an actor is the one thing Mike wants, and the one thing that's just out of his reach. He used to have it all; the promise of a shining future, a scholarship for Juilliard, and every opportunity he could want right at his fingertips. Now he's a bike messenger with no perspectives, no direction, and no money for his grandmother's care.Then he meets Harvey, and the magic they create on stage isn't the only thing growing between them as his entire life turns upside down.If only the course of true love ran smooth for once...
Relationships: Jeff Malone/Jessica Pearson, Louis Litt/Sheila Sazs, Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Comments: 166
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

Mike knew this was a bad fucking idea.

Granted, he didn’t anticipate being chased by two undercover cops that he only recognized in time through sheer dumb luck while carrying a briefcase full of pot, but still. Terrible idea. He never should have agreed to this.

It’s a little too late for that now, though. The cops aren’t catching up with him just yet, but he isn’t losing them either, and the heavy fall of his feet on the pavement tells him that he won’t be able to keep up this pace much longer. Should have exercised every once in a while instead of smoking in front of the TV with a bag of chips or two.

Another thing to add to his long list of regrets.

There are more pressing issues at hand though, like getting the hell away from the cops who are still on his tail _and_ coming closer, if his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.

He takes a sharp turn left, just so dodging two teenagers holding hands as he makes his way through the crowd as fast as he can. The Times Square area is always busy, which is a blessing and a curse – makes it easier for the cops to lose sight of him, but harder for him to get ahead.

He takes another corner, his breath coming faster with every second, the pounding of his heart a painful staccato in his chest, but he can’t stop running until he’s safe. He can’t go down, not for this.

His eyes catch on a sign in his way, informing him about one audition or another taking place in the theater he’s approaching. There’s a door next to it that is wide open, and Mike makes a split-second decision – the cops haven’t rounded the corner yet, with a bit of luck they’ll think he kept running straight ahead – and bolts inside.

The place it eerily quiet save for his heavy breathing (beautiful though, a small part of his brain notes), especially for a theater at the heart of Manhattan that’s holding auditions, but he pays it no mind, just follows the signs guiding him towards the room, praying that the cops won’t follow and he isn’t running straight into a trap.

He reaches the final door and stumbles through it, only to come to a jarring halt, because the room isn’t a room at all, it’s a stage. And he’s right in the middle of it, blinking against the blinding headlights aimed at him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Hey, kid.”

Mike startles at the voice coming from somewhere below him. He can barely make out the man it belongs to, but as long as he isn’t another cop, he’ll take it.

“Can I help you?”

 _Please do._ “Yeah, I… I’m here for the auditions.”

The man pauses. “You’re here for the auditions,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Mike agrees with only the slightest hesitation, willing his breathing to calm down faster. The guy steps out of the shadows, allowing him a proper look, and Mike promptly chokes on his next breath, because in front of him is no other than Harvey goddamn Specter.

Jesus Christ. How does he always end up in situations like this?

“Sorry. I’m… I ran here,” he adds lamely, like it’s any kind of explanation.

“I can see that.”

Harvey Specter doesn’t sound impressed, but Mike is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s talking to him at all, so he’s not too bothered by the fact. For the moment.

“You want to audition,” he repeats, a trace of amusement in his voice now. “For the role of Honey. In ‘Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf’. Nick’s wife, Honey.”

Damn it.

He should have read the whole sign.

Well, he’s here now, and there’s no way out but through.

“Yeah,” Mike says and raises his chin defiantly. “What, you think I can’t pull it off?”

Chances were always slim that this refuge was going to work out in his favor, but he’s fairly certain that he’s about to be kicked out any second now. He just hopes he was gone long enough for the cops to have disappeared.

Harvey regards him with narrowed eyes, looking like he’s torn between laughing and sending him away, but then he merely leans back and holds out his hands.

“Have you prepared a monologue?”

“…Yes,” Mike says slowly.

“Well, the stage is yours.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Go on, impress a guy.”

It’s not like he has much of a choice.

Mike swallows, glancing at the briefcase. He wants to put it down so he can focus, but is reluctant to let go of it and ultimately decides not to, in case he needs to make a run for it. He’ll just incorporate it as a prop or something.

He blinks, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The lights are really bright, and he’s starting to sweat beneath their heat, worked up already from the impromptu exercise he just got, and altogether he’s finding it a little hard to think clearly under the pressure that Harvey’s expectant silence is only making worse.

He swallows, shielding his eyes from the lights as he seeks his gaze.

“Give me a moment?”

Harvey raises an eyebrow, but nods.

Grateful, Mike inhales deeply and sucks in his lip as he thinks.

Doing a monologue is not a problem – he has tons of them memorized, it’s more a question of which one to pick. There’s a handful that he used to love to perform back when… well, before everything, but even though he’s sure that they would show what he’s got, they don’t feel right.

Maybe it’s because he’s outgrown them after the long break he took, never really expecting to return to them at all, or because he fears he’s too rusty after the lack of practice, but no matter which one he considers, he can’t find one that fits.

He glances at Harvey, who’s watching him with a hint of impatience, which is only fair considering that he burst in here late and for a role he’s not even equipped to play.

An idea pops into his head at that, and suddenly Mike knows what he’s going to do.

It’s unconventional, certainly. Clumsy at best and a disaster at worst, since he technically needs a scene partner for this and has to manage without one somehow, but he knows that it’s the best way to go.

He takes a deep breath before he shuts his eyes, slipping into the right headspace, and then thrusts his briefcase towards Harvey in accusation, his eyes snapping open; unblinking, focused.

“Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale at what it did so freely? From this time such I account thy love,” he snarls Lady Macbeth’s well-known words, and as soon as he’s started he realizes that he needn’t have worried about being out of practice. It’s just like riding a bike, or putting on his favorite sweater after the summer’s passed.

It still fits him perfectly.

There’s a part of him speaking those words that he hasn’t paid attention to in a long time, so long that he wasn’t even sure it was still there. But it is, it never left him, and it fills him with such overwhelming recognition that his eyes prickle, making him fall in love with it again instantly.

And by god, how he missed it.

He allows the emotions welling up in him to take control, to seep into Lady Macbeth as she seeps into him. She comes alive through him, the emotions behind her speech a mix of his own and hers, and Mike lets it fill him up and just runs with it.

“Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act and valor as thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,” like the poor cat i' the adage?”

The words are like gunshots, fast and hard and poignant, and he feels himself falling back into the rhythm more and more with each one passing his lips.

He fully expected to have to muddle his way through this alone, but to his surprise Harvey takes over Macbeth’s lines when they come up next, as smoothly as if they’d rehearsed it.

“Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none.”

There’s only a hint of emotion in his voice; he’s leaving the acting to Mike, just helping him along, but it’s all he needs.

“What beast was ’t, then, that made you break this enterprise to me?” he asks, relishing the bitterness of the line on his tongue. “When you durst do it, then you were a man; and to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both. They have made themselves, and that their fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me. I would, while it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums and dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you have done to this.”

Harvey lifts his chin. “If we should fail?”

“We fail?” Mike holds out his hands, the briefcase swinging from his arm like an extension of his body as he shakes his head and insists, “But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep—whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey soundly invite him—his two chamberlains will I with wine and wassail so convince that memory, the warder of the brain, shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason a limbeck only: when in swinish sleep their drenchèd natures lie as in a death, what cannot you and I perform upon the unguarded Duncan? What not put upon his spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt of our great quell?”

He waits, but Harvey doesn’t continue, instead staring at him in silence before he gets up and hops on stage with more grace than strictly necessary.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, Mike. Mike Ross.”

He briefly wonders if he should have used a fake name instead, but that would hardly save him if worst came to worst, and for some reason he’s reluctant to lie.

“I’m Harvey Specter. It’s a pleasure.”

“Yeah.” Mike huffs out a quiet laugh. “I know who you are.”

Harvey smiles and holds out his hand, and Mike takes it, slightly dazed as he greets the four-times Tony Award winner best known for his performances in The Crucible, Hamlet, The Glass Menagerie and, of course, Macbeth.

It’s more than a little surreal, especially with the lights still blinding him and his heart pounding, although for a different reason than before, the adrenaline in his veins making everything seem a little sharper and more in focus than it should be, and just as he marvels at the warm weight of Harvey’s hand in his the moment is cut short by his briefcase opening through some cruel twist of fate, spilling thousands of dollars’ worth of weed on the stage between them.

Mike shuts his eyes.

So fucking close.

“That’s… an interesting prop you brought there,” Harvey states after a slight pause. Mike has to admire his composure.

He lets out a deep breath. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.”

Mike’s shoulders slump, but Harvey doesn’t send him away or reaches for his phone to call the cops like he feared, instead just lifting an eyebrow as he crosses his arms.

“Well?”

“Oh. Right. Well, this is a longer story, so do you mind if I…”

He gesticulates towards the weed on the floor, its distinctive scent slowly but surely spreading between them, and Harvey nods.

“By all means.”

He doesn’t seem worried that Mike is going to bolt, and while the thought does cross his mind, he has no intention of actually following through on it. He made his bed, now he’s going to have to lie in it.

It’s a real shame though. Not that he thought anything could have actually come out of this audition, but still. It was nice to pretend for a while.

He gathers the weed and stuffs it back into the briefcase, then deliberately puts it down – shouldn’t have swung it around so much the first time – and, when Harvey leaves the stage, follows him to do the same.

Once they sit down, he tells his story.

Harvey listens quietly as he opens up about his Grammy and why he was desperate enough to let Trevor talk him into this. His eyebrows rise as he tells him about the cops and how he recognized them, and Mike can’t help but feel a little vindicated that he managed to impress him after all.

“So you’re not actually an actor,” Harvey summarizes when he’s done.

“No.” His lips curl into the bitter impression of a smile. “Well, I was going to be. Always wanted to, ever since I was a kid. I even got accepted into Juilliard, had a scholarship and everything. But I needed some money back in college, and Trevor convinced me to memorize this test and sell the answers.”

“You… memorized a test.”

“Well, I have this handy little thing called an eidetic memory. Makes it really easy to memorize things, because once I read them, I never forget them again.”

Harvey hums. “Explains why you know Lady Macbeth’s lines by heart.”

“Yeah. Anyway.” Mike huffs. “Turns out the person we sold the answers to was the dean’s daughter, and that was that. I got kicked out, lost my scholarship, and haven’t returned to the stage since.”

“But you want to.”

He lets out a deep breath. “Yeah. I do.”

Harvey watches him intently, and Mike clasps his hands together, waiting for his verdict.

“Let’s read another scene together.”

His eyes snap up to Harvey’s. “What?”

He just lifts an eyebrow. “If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I… sure.” Certainly not what he expected, but he’ll take it. “Do you want to do one from ‘Virginia Woolf’, or…?”

“Are you familiar with the text?”

Mike nods, and he decides, “Let’s go for it, then. You’re Honey, I’m doing everyone else.”

“Alright. What scene are we reading?”

Harvey reaches into his bag and pulls out a stack of script pages, leafing through them before he finds the one he’s looking for and hands it to Mike.

He reads the first line, and Mike responds with his, trying to pour everything he remembers about Honey’s naiveté into it.

The rhythm of the words takes hold of them quickly, and their surroundings fade to the background as they immerse themselves in the scene.

Mike startles when halfway through, a redheaded woman with two cups of coffee enters the stage from the side, but Harvey just signals him to continue, and so he pays her no mind and keeps reading.

Eventually the scene ends, and the woman asks, “What’s going on here?”

“Just wait and see. I’ll explain in a minute.”

She lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, merely raising her coffee to her lips as Harvey announces the next scene he wants to read with him. And the one after that, and after _that_ , going back and forth in the script. Mike doesn’t pretend to understand why; he’s happy to just follow his lead and go along with it.

They do a few parts two or three times and, sensing that Harvey is looking for something in his performance, Mike dives into it and gives it his everything, for some reason rather desperate for him to find it.

“Alright, let’s make a cut here,” Harvey eventually says, and Mike lets out a deep breath and sinks back in his seat.

Checking the time, he’s surprised to find that Harvey and he have been reading together for over an hour. Certainly didn’t feel like it.

Harvey regards him quietly, a thoughtful look on his face before he turns to the woman.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’ll have to sell it to Jessica, but…”

He hums. “You think she’ll let me sell it to her?”

She snorts. “You know as well as I do that you’re about the only person who could. It’s up to you. And _him,_ of course,” she adds, turning to Mike with a piercing look.

“Sorry, I’m… what are we talking about? And who are you, by the way?”

The woman smiles and gets to her feet, holding out her hand.

“I’m Donna. I expect we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.”

Mike raises his eyebrows, but shakes it. “Pleasure,” he murmurs.

Her phone starts ringing, and she winks at him before pulling it out of her pocket and heading into the hall to accept the call.

Mike looks after her, then shakes his head and asks, “So, why exactly are we going to see more of each other? You giving me a job or something?”

It’s a joke, but his voice is a little weak with the spark of hope that’s snuck into it. Harvey gives him a look, and Mike thinks he’s mishearing him when he responds, “If it were up to me, I would. However, it’s not my decision to make.”

“Let me guess,” he says once he’s processed that statement. “It’s Jessica’s, whoever that is.”

“You’re right. And she’s Jessica Pearson. I assume that means you’re familiar with her work,” he adds when Mike’s jaw drops.

“Uh, yeah, you could say that,” he mutters.

Harvey smirks.

“Why isn’t she here right now anyway?”

“This was the first round of auditions. Donna and I pick who gets asked back, but next time she’ll be there, and as the director she’s got the final vote.”

“So… are you going to ask me to come back?”

“I think I’d be a fool not to.”

Mike blinks at him, his cheeks heating up with the ridiculous sense of pride washing over him. He knows he’s a good actor, always has been, but hearing it from Harvey Specter is something else entirely.

Still, there’s a part of him that can’t quite believe any of this, that knows this is too good to be true. Because there’s a catch, there always is. Things like this don’t just happen to him.

“But I’m not actually an actor.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll figure that part out.”

“And the fact that Honey is supposed to be a woman too?”

Harvey waves his hand.

“Leave that to me. Don’t worry about anything except doing your best. If you’re up for this, that is.”

Mike frowns. “What, suddenly you think I can’t do it?”

“That’s not what I meant. Look, I can’t promise anything, but if we work this out and you do get the part… you have to understand what that entails first.”

He nods towards the stage. “This isn’t a high school production of Romeo and Juliet. This is a serious Broadway show, and it’s gonna be a big one. Long hours, high pressure. You will literally be in the spotlight. All eyes on you, day after day after day for weeks on end. I need a grown goddamn man who understands what he’d be committing to, not a hobby actor who’s in over his head. So, are you up for that or not?”

Mike straightens, lifting his chin defiantly.

“If you give me this opportunity, I’ll work all the hours I need and then some. I’ll give you the best damn performance you have ever seen.”

Harvey holds his gaze, then nods, satisfied.

“Before I talk to Jessica, we need to set some ground rules.”

“Alright?”

“Trevor,” Harvey states simply, his face making it clear that he won’t take no for an answer on this. “I need you to cut him out of your life, and I mean that. He’s a distraction, and a threat, and I can’t have anything endangering this production. It comes first, always, without question. You got that?”

It makes sense. Mike considers this, imagining what his life would look like with and without Trevor from this point on, and for all the history they have together, he knows which version is the better one.

Besides, this is a chance he can’t pass up on. And the fact that he’s royally pissed at Trevor for what happened earlier makes it easier than he thought to come to a decision.

Mike swallows. “I got it.”

“You’re willing to make that sacrifice?” Harvey presses on, and he nods, more certain this time.

“It’s not like he’s currently in my good graces after what happened today. I guess this is as good a reason as any to go separate ways. Maybe it’s about time.”

“Good. Now, I don’t know if you have a habit of consuming what you brought along today, but if you are, it needs to stop right now. Any other habits compromising your ability to focus and deliver too. Smoking the occasional joint is fine, on your day off and as long as it doesn’t affect your work. Word of advice, make sure it doesn’t get to that.”

“It won’t,” Mike assures him. “Look, I know I’m new to all this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how important it is for me to show up and be on my best behavior. On the contrary. Being part of something like this has been my dream for so long, and I wouldn’t risk that just to smoke some weed.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Harvey tilts his head. “One more thing. I understand you’re in a dicey situation, financially.”

Mike deflates. “Yeah. That.”

It’s stupid, but for one small moment he just… forgot.

Harvey gives him a contemplative look. “How much do you need for your grandmother?”

“Fifteen grand.” He huffs out a laugh. “No big deal, right?”

Harvey doesn’t laugh. Instead, he leans in. “I’ll tell you what. If you get this part, you’ll be paid generously for it. You’ll have your fifteen grand and then some by the end of the run.”

“When’s the end of the run?”

“About eight months from now.”

“Shit,” Mike mutters. “Yeah, no, that’s too late.”

Harvey purses his lips, then straightens. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. You get the part, I give you the fifteen grand upfront. You just pay me back as we go along, and we’re even in a matter of weeks.”

Mike stares at him. “You’re not serious.”

“Wouldn’t be a very funny joke, would it?”

Mike opens his mouth, then closes it again, shaking his head.

“I don’t… why would you do this for me?”

People he’s known his whole life have never done anything as kind as what Harvey is doing for him right now, and he doesn’t even _know_ him.

Harvey shrugs. “Because I’ve been where you are, and I know that sometimes all you need is for someone to give you a chance.”

He gets up and lifts an eyebrow. “This is your chance. Now all you gotta do is get the damn part.”

*

_Now all you gotta do is get the damn part._

Mike huffs, shaking his head. Easier said than done. Harvey told him to come back on Saturday before sending him home, which means he has three days to prepare, and Mike may or may not be going around the bend a little.

He still can’t wrap his head around what exactly happened yesterday, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if the universe has decided to grace him with some luck for once, he’ll damn well take it.

Or, well, try to. Get the damn part, as Harvey put it. No big deal.

Except it’s a massive deal, and Mike doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous about anything in his life. And the fact that his phone is ringing for the fifth time and he knows exactly who it is doesn’t make things any easier.

When he remembered to check his phone after the audition, he had two missed calls from Trevor and a bunch of texts he deleted unread. He tried to call him again later that night, and for the fourth time this morning, and as tempting as it is to just ignore him and never speak to him again, he knows that he won’t be able to focus on preparing for Saturday like this.

He grabs his phone and punches the keys as he writes a short text.

_Stop calling me. We’re done._

He huffs when, barely a minute later, his phone buzzes with an incoming message.

_Come on Mike. I just wanna talk and know you’re ok_

“Yeah, right,” he mutters.

_Don’t text me either. I mean it._

He half expected him to respond again, but his phone stays mercifully silent. He’s sure this isn’t the end of it, but as long as he gets some peace and quiet for now, he’s happy.

Glancing at the clock, Mike lets out a deep breath. He has about an hour left until he needs to get to work – which might be one of the last times, he realizes. If he’s actually cast in this play, he won’t have time to work another job, and according to Harvey he won’t need to. He can’t say that he’d be sorry to leave. There are worse jobs than being a bike messenger, certainly – drug dealer comes to mind – but there are much more fun ones too.

It would be a dream come true, to get to act for a living after years of convincing himself that ship has sailed. He can’t remember a time when he _didn’t_ want to be an actor; the desire grew after his parent’s death, but even before he was always up on a makeshift stage somewhere, always performing one thing or another. He remembers the feeling of it so well, even though he spent the past few years trying to forget all about it, but that’s his own personal curse, isn’t it? He can’t ever forget.

But maybe he doesn’t have to forget anymore. Maybe he can turn things around after all. Maybe he doesn’t have to live like this, doing something he has no interest in, always worrying about where he’ll get the money from to take care of himself and his Grammy.

If he actually gets the job, that is. And those kinds of thoughts certainly won’t help him with that. Using the time he has to prepare, on the other hand, will. So he spends the hour reading up on the play, and a few more once he gets home that night, practicing scenes and monologues until long past midnight and then waking up early to do it all over again.

Saturday comes around faster than he’d like, though there’s a distinct sense of joy underneath all the nausea he’s experiencing, simply because he gets to do something he loves today, and no matter what comes out of it, he’s grateful that he got that chance.

Though he’d be more grateful if he got the part on top of it.

He makes sure to arrive a few minutes before ten, checking the state of his hair in the reflection of the door before he goes in.

He can hear voices coming from the stage and peeks inside, finding Donna talking to no other than Jessica Pearson.

“Oh, hey Mike,” she calls out when she catches sight of him over her shoulder.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

He swallows when Jessica turns around, frowning at him. “Can I help you?”

“Ah, Mike,” Harvey cuts in before he can respond, approaching them with a canting smile. “So glad you could make it.”

Jessica turns to him, lifting her eyebrows.

“What,” she asks calmly, though there’s a hint of warning in her voice, “is the meaning of this, Harvey?”

Mike’s stomach sinks.

“You haven’t told her?”

Harvey ignores him, holding Jessica’s gaze as he says, “He’s auditioning for Honey. And I think you’re gonna love him.”

“Oh, is that so?” she asks, letting out a disbelieving laugh.

“You’ve seen all the other ones,” Harvey says, tilting his head. “I could tell you were looking for something else. I know they didn’t convince you.”

“And you think he will?”

“I think he’ll surprise you. And not just because he’s a man.”

“Well, he _is_ a man. And I don’t recall asking you to change the gender on the casting call.” She shakes her head. “This is what I get for giving you that much rope, is it? You’re taking matters into your own hand? I give you the privilege of having a vote in who we cast opposite you and you presume the right to restructure _my_ play?”

Mike shrinks at her words, but Harvey stands his ground, seemingly unimpressed.

“You know it could work, Jessica. It could more than work. It’s social commentary, it’s modernization, it’s perfectly in tune with the times, and it sets us apart from the dozens of other adaptations this play has had over the years.”

“You think we need something to set us apart? My work isn’t enough to do that?”

“All I’m saying is that I think he’s an asset that could skyrocket the fruits of your labor, if you just let him.” He shrugs. “He’s the last one we’re seeing for the part. Just let him read, that’s all I’m asking. See for yourself what I’m talking about.”

Jessica stares at him, her eyes narrowed, but Harvey doesn’t budge an inch. 

They look at each other in silence for so long that Mike starts fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, growing more uncomfortable by the second. His nerves are stretched to breaking point when Jessica finally nods, just once, before turning her sharp gaze to him.

“Well then, wonder boy. Show me what you got.”

“Right, okay,” he agrees readily as she approaches a seat. Harvey glances at him over his shoulder before he joins her.

Mike clears his throat when she raises an expectant eyebrow. “Do you want me to do a scene from the play, or a monologue, or…”

His voice dies off at her unimpressed look. “Just show me,” she repeats with a vaguely ominous smile on her lips, “what you got.”

He swallows, catching Harvey’s eyes, who nods in encouragement. “Okay.”

He doesn’t want to presume that she would help him along like Harvey did last time, so he decides on a monologue, which ironically has the title ‘Wasted Talent’.

“He stopped believing, that’s it, that’s why he failed… he quit,” he begins. “So much talent, so much potential but he stopped believing in himself… he lost his way ‘cause he couldn’t figure out what to do next with his career and I guess all the stress added up and finally broke him…”

He goes through the words of a guy mourning his recently deceased friend, and he’s not messing it up, but he’s not nailing it either.

“His music was great… I would listen to it all the time… it would get me into a pumped up emotional state and his lyrics never got old…no one gave him a chance but I think that in today’s world that doesn’t matter; he didn’t give himself the chance to take control of his career the way I knew he could have.”

The words taste bitter on his tongue. Mike can feel a sheen of sweat form on his forehead under the warmth of the lights on him, and he barely resists wiping it away, the frustration rising in him making him struggle not to break character.

He’s trying hard to fabricate the emotions involved in the scene, but they’re just that – fabricated. Too aware of the eyes on him, watching every move he doesn’t even know he’s making, it fails to open up that part in him that connects with the lines, that makes them authentic.

Instead it feels stilted even to him, and a quick glance at Jessica only makes him feel worse, because she’s clearly not buying any of it.

He finishes the monologue on a mediocre note at best, swallowing the urge to apologize. He barely dares to look at Jessica, but seeing whatever Harvey must be thinking on his face would be even worse, so he keeps his eyes fixed on her and wishes the ground would swallow him up.

“Do Lady Macbeth,” Harvey breaks the silence, and when his eyes snap to him, he gives him a reassuring nod rather than the look of disappointment he expected.

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

Mike clears his throat again. He takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t let himself think about it, he just dives right in.

This is familiar. He’s done this before. He got it right before.

He can do it again.

“Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale at what it did so freely?”

Harvey gets up from his seat and heads to the stage, joining him in the spotlight when he has finished his line to continue, “Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none.”

Despite the gratitude welling up in him, Mike focuses on the bitterness and disappointment he needs for Lady Macbeth, lets it fill him up entirely, and this time he feels it, really feels it. This time he’s showing Jessica what he wanted her to see, though he doesn’t look to check if she likes it. He can worry about that later. This, this is now.

And it’s beautiful.

The words flow between Harvey and him easily, complicated as they are, like they were born with them on their lips. The scene takes off by itself; Mike doesn’t have to worry about upholding the emotions he needs, they’re right there, and he’s letting them do what they must. They both are.

“If we should fail?” Harvey asks, and the triumphant feeling is entirely his own when Mike shoots back, “We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we’ll not fail.”

They play the scene to the end, and his chest is heaving when they finish, a smile spreading on his lips when he sees the corner of Harvey’s mouth lifting.

“Good,” he tells him quietly. Nothing more, but it’s enough.

“Let’s read a scene from the play together. You know your lines?”

Mike nods, and Harvey calls over his shoulder, “Jessica, you’re George, Donna, read Martha. Act one, Nick and Honey have just arrived.”

Mike glances at them as they flip through the pages of their copies, swallowing when they give the sign that they’re ready to go.

“Hey,” Harvey mutters, for his ears only. Mike looks at him, and he says, “Just focus on me, alright? Only me.”

Mike takes a deep breath and nods.

And it helps. He doesn’t know why, but it does. Maybe it’s because he knows how well they work together, or because he trusts him already, but Mike focuses on Harvey, and the words come easily.

 _Honey_ comes easily, with all her naiveté and timidity, and he stops thinking about Jessica and whether she likes what he’s doing or not, he just does it until he forgets that he’s in the middle of an audition, until he forgets that he’s playing a part and just becomes it.

Jessica lets them do the entire act to Honey’s last line before she calls for a stop.

“Well,” she says and puts her script down, rising from her seat. Mike swallows, his nervousness returning as soon as he’s out of character, but he holds her gaze, refusing to let himself be intimidated.

“I have one question for you. Where the hell did he find you?”

Mike glances at Harvey, whose lips are curving into a satisfied smile, and his shoulders relax as he tells her, “Well, technically I found _him_. It’s… a long story.”

“And an interesting one, no doubt.” She looks between them, but doesn’t ask further questions, instead hopping onto the stage until she’s right in front of him. Mike swallows, raising his chin to look up at her.

“You’re young, and unpolished. You’re easily rattled and you clearly never set foot on a professional stage before.”

She tilts her head.

“But you have something about you that makes people want to look at you. Makes them want to watch. You have a spark in you that has the potential to grow into a wildfire, should you manage to maintain it.”

He can see Harvey practically gloating from the corner of his eye and swallows, doing his best to focus on her.

She gives him a long look, exhaling deeply as she shakes her head.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but something tells me that despite everything, it would be a mistake to let you go. I trust my gut, and against better judgment, I trust Harvey.”

Harvey huffs behind her, and the corner of her mouth lifts briefly before she grows serious again, assessing him until he feels laid bare.

“If I give you this part, you’re going to have to work hard to keep it. You’ll have to earn it, over and over and over again. You’ll have to endure the strain that comes with the job, and be stronger than your inevitable exhaustion every time. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I… I heard that speech before. And my answer’s still the same.” Mike shrugs. “I know I have a lot of catching up to do, but I also know that I’m a damn good actor, and that I have what it takes. If you give me this chance, I’ll work harder than anyone else on this production, including you. I’ll prove to you that you didn’t make a mistake in putting your faith in me. I promise that you will not regret it.”

“Good. Because if you end up disappointing me, you’re gonna have to take it up with me. And you won’t like me when I’m mad at you.”

“I... have no trouble believing that.”

Jessica regards him, then smiles and holds out her hand. “In that case, welcome on board, Mike.”

He stares at her, all pretenses forgotten as his jaw drops, and he shakes her hand in a daze, distantly aware of Harvey’s smug face as he thanks her over and over.

Jessica turns around, looking down at Harvey with a canting smile.

“I hope you know what you just got yourself into. He’s your responsibility. If he messes up, it’s your ass that’s on the line.”

Harvey just returns the smile. “Oh, you know that’s how I like it. No risk, no fun, right? Besides, if he managed to convince you, there’s no way in hell he won’t take the audience by storm.”

Mike sits and listens, the adrenaline in his system still making everything seem a bit hazy as they say their goodbyes and Harvey walks up to him, his smile growing.

“You did it. Congratulations.”

“I… thank you. This is just… wow.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t have done it without your help though. _We_ did it.”

Harvey waves his hand. “You were fine. Just needed a little warm-up and a nudge in the right direction.” He lifts an eyebrow. “You got anywhere to be?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Then you and me, coffee, now. We have some things to discuss.”

Mike nods, not really paying attention to what he’s saying, still rather hung up on the fact that he got the part and he’s going to be in a play, on _Broadway_ , and that this is pretty much what it must feel like to win the lottery.

He’s firmly brought back to earth when, twenty minutes later, he finds himself in a fancy café, staring into his cup with a frown.

“This is the most ridiculously overpriced coffee I’ve ever had.”

“Get used to it. I’m a regular here when I have rehearsals in the area. Trust me, their espresso shots will get you through anything. Even tech week.”

“Hm,” Mike makes, distracted by the realization that he’s actually going to experience all this – rehearsals, long nights and early mornings, the dreaded tech week, all of it.

“Hey,” Harvey says, nudging him. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Just a bit dumbstruck by suddenly having everything I ever wanted on my hands, that’s all.”

Harvey chuckles, heading towards a small table in the corner. They take a seat opposite each other, and he puts his coffee down, regarding him closely.

“You’re gonna have the time of your life, kid, I can promise you that much. But the world you’re about to become part of has some downsides too. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows.”

“Well, there’s gonna be some rainbows at least, with us playing a gay couple and all.”

Harvey gives him a look.

“I mean it. As an actor, you’re always in competition. Sometimes with people you like, people you care about. It’s cutthroat. The rivalry is brutal.”

“Sounds… lovely.”

Harvey huffs. “You do get used to it, though I can’t say if that makes it better or worse. Just don’t go into this unprepared, or you’re not gonna last. You’ll find great friends in this business and great enemies, and some who pretend to be the first but are actually the latter. You won’t always be able to tell the difference.”

“Well, I guess I’ve always had trouble with that part,” Mike mutters, glancing at his coffee. “I mean, not that Trevor ever meant for me to fail, but… doesn’t exactly seem like he had my best interests at heart in hindsight.”

“No, it doesn’t. But that kind of disappointment is something you’re gonna have to get used to. It’s a big part of our work. Pain, frustration, doubt – you’ll have to deal with it all. Because no matter how good you are, you _will_ be rejected again and again. People will say horrible things about your appearance. They will talk about your body like it belongs to them, like it’s an object. You will have dry spells that make you start questioning whether you were ever any good at all. Try not to let that get to you. And don’t let anyone tell you that you’re any less than you actually are. But don’t let them tell you you’re more, either.”

“What do you mean?”

Harvey takes a sip of his coffee. “There’s a dark side to fame, and I don’t just mean people talking shit about you online for the sake of it, or taking pictures of you in the street without your consent. I mean that it gets to you. All the compliments and praise and admiration people throw your way, it gets to your head, and it’s very easy to lose yourself in it. But that’s not _you_ , that perfect image people have in their heads. Don’t get lost in it, because it doesn’t last. It never does.”

“Okay, so… how do I not get lost in it?”

Harvey shrugs. “Remind yourself where you came from. Remember who you are without the public eye on you, when you aren’t on stage. Stay right here on the ground and you’ll be fine. But you’ll actively have to work for it.”

Mike curls his hands around his coffee, pondering his words.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind. And if I ever forget it, my Grammy will be there to remind me quite thoroughly. I appreciate the heads-up, though.” He cracks a smile. “I guess there’s an advantage to being a stage actor rather than a movie star. This whole fame thing is… less inescapable, isn’t it? Less people care about you, or, or recognize you in the streets. You can still live a normal life.”

“It’s definitely less overwhelming, but even so it can already be too much. If you want some advice, I’d tell you not to forget to pay attention to yourself amidst the chaos that’s about to become your life. Pay attention to your needs, your feelings, the parts of your old life that you want to hold on to, and make sure that none of it slips out of your reach. Because once it’s gone, it’s damn hard to get back.”

His voice is a little off, and it makes Mike wonder if Harvey is speaking from experience. If someone sat him down like he’s doing with him right now and told him all these things or if he had to learn them himself, the hard way. He instinctively understands that it’s not his place to ask though, at least not yet. Maybe one day. They will spend quite a lot of time together in the upcoming months, after all.

Despite of what Harvey just told him, he can’t say he isn’t looking forward to that.

Harvey seems to read his thoughts from his expression, because the corner of his mouth lifts as he adds, “That being said, it’ll be the experience of a lifetime working on this project. And not just because Jessica is a prodigy and you get to act opposite me, though you _are_ lucky in that regard.”

Mike snorts, and Harvey smirks, lifting his cup before he pauses, his smile softening.

“You never forget your first. And you’re in the fortunate position that your first is a really special project. But lucky or not, you’re gonna have to work your ass off for this. I expect nothing less than your best. Are you ready for that?”

Mike huffs out a laugh, his stomach fluttering with nervousness and excitement in equal parts. “Honestly, I think I’ve been ready for it my entire life. I’ve… I needed something like this, I think. I was waiting for it without even knowing it, and now that I do, I’m more than ready to go the extra mile.”

“Good. You heard what Jessica said – since your performance will reflect on me, I have a proposition to make. She’s right, you do need polishing. I suggest we use the time before rehearsals start, and later on in between them, to tutor you.”

Mike blinks at him in surprise, then teases, “Really? You’re willing to impart even more of your wisdom to me?”

“I’ll be billing you by the hour, of course.”

Mike chuckles, sitting back to grab his cup, the warmth spreading in his belly only partially down to the admittedly exquisite coffee.

“I’m getting the feeling that you actually like doing this whole mentoring thing, you know. Still, I… really appreciate that you’re willing to invest that time in me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“That goes without saying. If I didn’t think you would, I wouldn’t have suggested it. Any of this.”

Taking out his phone, Harvey types something and then hands it to him. “Give me your number and I’ll text you when and where we’re meeting.”

“I’m free any day,” Mike tells him, taking the phone. “I’ll quit my job on Monday. After that I’m all yours.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Harvey downs the rest of his coffee, pushing back his chair. “I have to get going, but I’ll be in touch.”

“Yeah, alright,” Mike agrees, stifling his disappointment. “Just let me know.”

Harvey nods as he puts on his jacket.

“I’ll see you next week. Enjoy the rest of your day. Do something to celebrate. You’ve earned it.”

Mike smiles. “I will. Thanks, Harvey.”

It’s for a lot of things, much more than he could put into words, but Harvey just nods again, and he thinks he understands.

He heads for the doors, then turns back as he remembers something.

“Oh, and Donna will have a contract sent to you by Monday about the money. Send it back right away and you should have what you need by the end of the week.”

Mike swallows. “Alright. I… Thank you. I owe you big time for this.”

Harvey just waves his hand.

“Don’t worry. You’ll pay me back three times over with the blood, sweat, and tears this is gonna cost you.”

He winks, and before Mike can figure out if it’s a joke or not he has turned around and left.

Mike looks after him until he’s disappeared from his sight, his fingers curling around his cup as he wonders at what moment exactly his life turned into this upside-down version of what it used to be.

He can barely fathom what’s ahead of him, but the more time he spends imagining it, the less he can wait for it to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The course of true love never did run smooth" is a line by Shakespeare.
> 
> The monologue Mike performs during his audition can be found [here](https://monologueblogger.com/wasted-talent-drama-1-2-minutes/).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/afraidofwoolf/summary/) a summary of the play if you're not familiar with it (though I highly recommend reading the whole thing if you get the chance)!

“Knock, knock,” Mike announces himself, peeking through the half-open door.

His grandmother is sitting in her chair by the table, looking over the newspaper she’s reading.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. My elusive grandson, Michael.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Mike says as he comes in and closes the door. “I feel awful for not visiting sooner. If it makes it any better, I had a really good reason.”

He bends down to kiss her forehead before dropping onto the other chair. She gives him a wary look, causing a pang of guilt in his chest, because he can’t really blame her for not expecting good news from him. She never held it against him when he got into trouble, but that doesn’t make him feel any better about making her worry so much.

But those days are over now. Finally, he has some good news to share, something that will make her proud, and he tries and fails to quash the excitement welling up in him at the thought. Part of him really wants to savor the moment, while the rest of him just wants to burst out with it.

“Well, do tell. I don’t have all day, you know.”

“Oh, yeah? Got any exciting bridge matches coming up, do you?”

He grins when she slaps his arm with the newspaper. “I’ll have you know that I’m two wins away from finally taking the title from Ida Smith.”

“Oh, thank god. She’s a witch.”

“Absolutely,” Grammy mutters dryly. Then she levels him with a look he’s all too familiar with, clearly expecting him to speak. “So, what have you been up to?”

He bites his lip, doing a poor job of concealing his glee, but he’s too excited to really care. Still, a bit of suspense never hurt anyone, so he might as well start from the beginning.

“I… ran into this guy. Harvey.” He deems it better to gloss over the circumstances they met in and instead adds, “Harvey Specter. That mean anything to you?”

“He’s that actor, isn’t he?” She frowns. “I read about him in the papers. He played Hamlet last year.”

“That’s the one. Well, we, uh, got talking and I somehow ended up auditioning with him for this play he’s gonna do next. He liked what I did, so he got me a call-back with the director, who happens to be Jessica freaking Pearson.”

“I know that name,” Grammy mutters. “Help me out?”

“She’s this super famous director with a ton of awards to her name. She did Macbeth a few years back, Waiting for Godot, Much Ado about Nothing; basically all the classics and then some. She’s really intimidating, but incredibly talented. And I got to audition with her.”

“Already? How did it go?”

Mike huffs. “Well, first I messed it up a little because I was nervous. But then I read a few lines with Harvey and it just… clicked. We had a really good flow, and afterwards we all read a scene from the play together, and I guess she must have seen something she liked, because I got the part.”

“Oh, Michael.” She puts her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. “You did?”

He nods, holding out his arms. “You’re looking at Mike Ross, Broadway actor in the making, coming to a theater near-ish you around springtime.”

“Oh, darling,” she mutters, and he beams at the tender nickname he never quite grew tired of hearing. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.”

She reaches for his hand, her grip surprisingly strong.

“I know how much you wanted something like this. I’m so proud of you. And your parents would be too. They loved seeing you perform those little plays you made up when you were younger.”

He swallows, squeezing her hand firmly. “Thanks, Grammy.”

She nods, then chuckles. “Oh, wait until I tell Ida Smith about this. She’ll turn green with envy.”

He snorts. “You’re gonna drive her into an early grave.”

“I’m afraid that matter’s out of my hands, Michael,” she says dryly, but her expression softens as she looks at him. “This is such a wonderful surprise. You must be very happy.”

“I am, yeah. I’m… over the moon, actually. Still trying to wrap my head around it, if I’m honest.”

“What’s the play?”

“Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.” He grins. “I’m gonna play Honey.”

Grammy lifts her eyebrows, but nods after a moment of consideration. “I can see that. Spring, you said?”

“Yeah, I think opening night is around March or April. You’re invited to that, of course. It’s gonna be on Broadway and everything. Can you believe that? Me, making it to Broadway on my first play ever. A week ago, I didn’t even think I’d ever set foot on a stage again after Juilliard was off the table, and today all _this_ is happening.”

It’s still dizzying to think just how fast his entire life turned around. Before this, he was so sure that he’d fucked up, and he would have to live with the consequences for the rest of his life. He didn’t think it could go another way. He didn’t think he _deserved_ for it to go another way.

Grammy taps the back of his hand with her finger, and when he looks up, she’s smiling at him with that knowing look in her eyes that always makes him feel like she can read his mind.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Am I happy that you get to do what you always wanted now? Of course I am. But that doesn’t mean I thought any less of you before. You just lost your way for a little while. We all do sometimes.”

“It was more than a little while,” Mike mutters, but she tuts and shakes her head.

“It led you exactly where you had to be for this to happen, didn’t it? Who knows where you would have ended up if things had gone according to your plan.”

“I guess,” he concedes, then eyes her, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I haven’t even told you the best part yet.”

She raises her eyebrows, and he elaborates, “Being a Broadway actor pays pretty generously. Which means we’re getting you out of here and into a brand-new, comfortable, upscale home with nice staff and nice residents and much better food than they have here.”

And much better care, but that part goes unspoken.

“Plus, it’ll be far away from Ida Smith,” he adds for good measure, and she hums, nodding slowly.

“Well, that _is_ good news. But it’s not the best part about this.” She reaches across the table to cup his face. Mike wrinkles his nose in pretended annoyance, even though he doesn’t actually mind. “The best part is that you’re happy. I can tell that you are, and it’s been far too long since I saw that look on you. Make sure that it stays there this time, hm?”

He huffs out a laugh, dropping his eyes. “I will, Grammy. Promise.”

She gives a satisfied nod, letting go.

“Now, I’m in the mood for some coffee. Maybe they’ll even have a croissant left, stale as it might be. Do you want to stay and watch me take the title from Ida Smith afterwards?”

Mike grins. “I’d love to, but I have to go. Harvey is tutoring me to make up for my lack of professional training, and I want to prepare for our first session.”

“Is he.” Grammy lifts her eyebrows. “That’s nice of him.”

“I mean, since he’s the one who brought me into this project it would reflect badly on him if I messed up, so… it’s probably not entirely altruistic. But it is nice of him, yes. He is. Nice.”

She smiles at him when he catches her eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. Off you go, then. Don’t let your old grandmother keep you from your exciting plans.”

“You know I’d let you, and happily so,” Mike points out, rising from his seat to wrap his arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. “I’ll let you know when I have your move all figured out. Now be nice to good old Mrs. Smith while I’m gone. I don’t want to hear any complaints when I come back.”

“Yes, yes,” she mutters, patting his back, and he chuckles.

“I know where I got it from,” he murmurs, waving at her one last time before he heads out.

Walking down the hall, he finds himself relieved once again that he’s getting her out of here soon, and not just because she desperately needs the care she isn’t getting here. This place is a sore excuse for a home. He’ll make sure the next one is much nicer.

It’s such a massive weight off his shoulders to finally be able to do that for her that he practically skips down the steps to where he left his bike.

He still has about two hours until Harvey’s driver picks him up when he gets home – he’s never been picked up by anyone’s driver and thinks it’s a bit ridiculous, but he’s not about to decline either – and he grabs his laptop and drops on the sofa, determined to make good use of them.

He’s not sure what to expect from this tutoring arrangement, but he doesn’t want to show up unprepared, if Harvey has to take the time out of his day to meet with him already.

He’s been reading up on theories of character immersion and all sorts of other practices he remembers from what he generally refers to as _before_. He consumes every analysis and commentary about ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’ he can find, rereads the entire play to take notes about Honey’s character and her relationship with the others, and even practices the lines to himself despite knowing he can only get so far without the rest of the cast. Acting isn’t a solitary art, after all. It’s a give and take, a reaction to the action of another, like what happened between him and Harvey when they read together.

Mike’s experiences on stage are limited, granted, and most of them were amateurish attempts at putting together a play with high school students who didn’t really care about the story, but he’s never experienced that kind of connection before, never even knew it was possible.

Acting was always fun for him; it always felt special, a natural way of expressing himself and embracing the full spectrum of human emotions and experiences. But it never felt like this before. He didn’t know it could extend from himself to another person, or several of them, to create something larger than the stage could contain, larger than words can describe. If reading a few scenes with Harvey felt like that already, he can’t wait to find out what actually being in character with him will be like.

Speaking of. A glance at the clock reveals that it’s high time he got ready, and he puts on his shoes and tries to straighten his hair to his best ability before he throws his copy of the play and the accompanying notes into his bag and hurries downstairs.

A man is already waiting there to pick him up, introducing himself as Ray and holding the door open for him, which makes the whole situation even more bizarre than it already is. Mike thanks him when he drops him off at a building he could have easily biked or taken the subway to, and shakes his head as he goes inside, only to be told by the doorman that _Mr. Specter_ is awaiting him.

He takes the elevator to the top floor, knocks on the door, says hi to Harvey, and then nearly trips over his feet as he walks in and takes a look around, because he knew the guy was loaded but this apartment really is something else.

He stares at the classy furniture and obscure art in stunned silence, then turns around.

“Okay, first of all, I appreciate your driver bringing me here, but next time I can just take my bike.”

Harvey shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“Second of all, wow.”

He snorts. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh, believe me, I would love to,” Mike mutters with an appreciative gaze around the room before his eyes land on Harvey. “This is quite the place for someone who doesn’t even live in New York for weeks at a time.”

“I work here more often than not, so I figured I might as well make it enjoyable.”

“Hm. Yeah. Absolutely,” Mike agrees, thinking to himself that Harvey and he live in very different worlds indeed. Or at least they did, up until now. Who knows, maybe a year from now Mike will have a place exactly like this and think it’s the most normal thing in the world.

He almost snorts at the thought, then shakes his head and claps his hands together.

“So. I’ll be honest and say that I have no idea what you had in mind when you suggested this tutoring arrangement, but whatever it is, I’m ready.”

“Good. Let’s get started right away then. The first thing you’re gonna work on is what nearly cost you the audition with Jessica, because chances are that you won’t have me in the room to save your ass next time.”

“Uh… alright.”

“Tell me what happened back there. Why didn’t your monologue work?”

“Because I was… nervous, I guess?”

“Why were you nervous?”

Mike huffs. “Because I wanted the job. I wanted Jessica to like what I was doing,” he adds as an afterthought.

“So you didn’t trust yourself enough to have faith that you’d convince her. You were scared she wasn’t going to like what she saw. You were scared that you’d embarrass yourself. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Mike admits, and Harvey nods.

“The bottom line is that you’re afraid.”

Opening his mouth, Mike pauses before he shuts it again. His first impulse is to deny it, but something is keeping him from saying what he wants to, something that tells him that Harvey may have a point.

He looks like he knows it too, though his expression is unexpectedly understanding rather than judgmental, or mocking as Mike feared – which makes no sense whatsoever, he realizes, because Harvey has shown him nothing but kindness since the moment they met.

Again, fear. Maybe he really is on to something there.

“It’s the instinctive fear of being seen, with no control over what you show and what you hide. You’d be surprised by how many actors struggle with it. It’s natural. It’s self-preservation. But in our line of work, it’s professional suicide. You can’t be afraid of being seen as you are. You’re putting yourself out there, and people are going to judge you whether you like it or not. There are always going to be those that don’t like what they see. So let them.”

He shrugs when Mike gives him a doubtful look.

“Let them hate it. Let them hate _you._ Let them think you’re the worst actor who ever walked the earth. Let them think your acting choices are ridiculous and you were an awful pick for the role and anything you can do, they can do better. It doesn’t matter what they think. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, as long as _you_ know what you’re capable of and trust in your abilities. If you don’t, you will never have the foundation you need to build a solid performance on.”

It makes sense, of course it does. But Mike can’t help but think that this approach is a little too simplified to actually work.

“So how exactly do I lose that fear?” he asks, not sure if he likes the smile Harvey is giving him in response.

“It’s pretty straightforward. You act out a scene, and you make it really, really awful.”

“…huh?”

“You do something humiliating,” Harvey carries on, unfazed. “You fuck up. You give a purposefully bad performance, and you do it until it loses its power over you and you’re no longer scared of others seeing you like that. Free yourself from the expectations people have of you, and you’re one step closer to fulfilling your own.”

Mike blinks at him, swallowing. Harvey regards him quietly, then tilts his head, his eyes narrowed.

“You’re worthy of being seen, Mike, you know? There’s nothing you need to be ashamed or scared of, no reason to be insecure. Allow yourself to believe that. Allow yourself to be perceived in your entirety, with all your flaws and strength and the pretty and ugly parts, and own all of it as uniquely yours. That’s where the magic happens.”

For some reason, the combination of the words and his intense gaze on him makes heat rise in his cheeks, and Mike instinctively hopes that Harvey won’t notice the flush before he realizes the irony of it.

“Okay, yeah, that… that sounds good.” He clears his throat. “I want to do that. I wanna let go of the fear. But I… don’t really know how.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Harvey says. “That’s where I come in.”

“Right. Guiding me through my purposefully bad performances. Teaching me how to embarrass myself,” Mike jokes weakly. “I don’t think I need any help with that, actually.”

“I’m not teaching you how to embarrass yourself. I’m teaching you how to own that you’re doing something embarrassing,” Harvey corrects.

“Right,” Mike repeats. “So how exactly do we… do that?”

A horror vision of himself running around the block with no clothes on singing _Eye of the Tiger_ flashes before his eyes, briefly making him reconsider just how much he is willing to do for this role, but Harvey merely says, “Do your monologue again.”

“Okay,” he agrees readily. “Any specific wishes?”

“Yeah. Do it even worse than last time.”

Mike huffs. “Thanks,” he mutters, but straightens his shoulders, focusing.

“He stopped believing, that’s it, that’s why he failed…” he begins, remembering every word he messed up during the audition with painful clarity, but he makes himself relive it anyway, doing his best to fuck up the rest too and deliver an absolute horrid performance.

He overdoes it on purpose, enunciating the wrong words, pulling faces that don’t match the tone of his lines, ending on a little bow to top it all off.

Harvey just raises an eyebrow.

“Good. Now do it again, but don’t play it for laughs. Just be bad at it.”

Mike represses a sigh. Of course Harvey knew exactly what he was doing. Of course he isn’t letting him get away with it.

He never knew that allowing himself to be seen without defenses is so hard. But he said he was willing to put work into this, and he meant it. So he takes a deep breath, fights the urge to make a joke out of it and recites the monologue again, doing an awful job of it.

What follows might be the most humiliating hour of Mike’s life, but also one of the most entertaining afternoons he’s had in a while. Because once he gets past the embarrassment and the persistent desire to do something that will impress Harvey and make him look good, he starts to see the fun aspect of the whole thing.

Harvey has him do all sorts of ridiculous things, and after a while he stops dreading them and just runs with it; doing silly monologues, reading an excerpt from _Fifty Shades of Grey_ that Harvey hands him on his phone with the instructions to ‘make it romantic’, singing children’s songs and nursery rhymes at full volume and entirely off key (he doesn’t have to work hard for that), dancing the Macarena, and that’s just the beginning.

He lets out a deep breath when Harvey is finally satisfied and announces that they’re taking a break.

He gets Mike some water that he gratefully accepts, only now realizing how thirsty he is, then asks, “You want some coffee too?”

“Sure,” Mike says and trails after him when he disappears in the kitchen.

“Same as last time?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a look around. “You know, I’m saying this as someone who knows how to make, like, one dish, but this kitchen is _sweet_.”

“How do you only know how to make one dish?” Harvey scoffs. “I thought you had this memory thing. Doesn’t work on recipes, does it?”

“Funny. I know a bunch of recipes, if we’re being technical, but… I can’t make them.” He shrugs. “It just never turns out the way I want it to. I don’t have the _touch_.”

“The touch,” Harvey echoes, amused.

“Yeah, you know. That intuition about which spices go with what and how long to cook something to make it right and… all that,” he finishes lamely at Harvey’s look. “Do _you_ cook?”

“Sometimes. Not as often as I’d like, but I could keep myself alive without delivery services.”

“I could, too,” Mike argues. He takes the cup Harvey hands him. “Thanks. I just wouldn’t wanna expose anyone else to my cooking, but I don’t mind it, so I never really found the motivation to get better.”

“Got no one else to feed, then?” Harvey inquires idly, his back to him as he prepares his own coffee. “Roommate? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

He glances over his shoulder on the last part, and Mike curls his hands around his cup, acutely aware of the sudden warmth his gaze is bringing over him.

“No, I’m, uh. Not seeing anyone. And I live alone. Back when I was with my Grammy, she was always the one who cooked, so I never had to, and after that… well, like I said. Never had a reason to learn.”

He blows on his coffee, then takes an experimental sip.

It’s amazing. Of course it is. Harvey probably wouldn’t settle for anything less.

“I went to see her today,” he then says without quite knowing why. “My grandmother. Told her the big news.”

Harvey turns to him, raising his cup to his lips. “She must be very excited.”

“Yeah, she was. Though I’m even more excited to get her out of that shithole,” he adds quietly.

Harvey hums. “How long has she been in that home?”

“A little more than a year now. It… wasn’t easy, that whole transfer. I mean, we weren’t living together at that point anymore, so it shouldn’t have made that much of a difference, but it still did.”

“Because it’s a nursing home,” Harvey says, nodding.

“Yeah. It just… made it impossible to ignore that she’s getting older any longer. I mean, she’s doing really well for her age, but she’s changed these past few years, there’s no denying that. It was the right choice to put her in a home, because at least there’s someone around at all times if she needs help, but it was still hard. For both of us.”

“Well, maybe the new home is going to make things a little easier now. Have you found one that you like yet?”

“There’s two that I’m considering, yeah. I’m leaning towards the second, but only because it’s closer. I’d just rather have her nearby.”

“Understandable. Having a close relationship with your family is a valuable thing. If you have that, you should hold on to it. Being near your loved ones is a luxury you don’t always get, especially in a line of work like ours. It’s only sensible to make the most of it while you still can.”

There’s a trace of bitterness in his voice, a hint of something that seems much bigger than what he’s putting into words, something Mike can only guess at but rather desperately wants to hear about.

He looks at Harvey and suddenly wonders if _he’s_ seeing anyone, but he kind of missed the window to ask him about it. Bringing it up again would be weird now.

He berates himself for not asking earlier, but doesn’t dwell on it when he remembers what they’re here for. They’ll be working together closely for a while now, after all. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to find out more about him in the weeks to come.

“You’re right,” is all he says, taking another sip. He narrows his eyes as he lowers his cup. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“That thing over there.” He nods towards what must be some sort of sculpture consisting of two white wavy lines rising into the air, similar but not quite identical. “What _is_ that? I mean, is it art? Does it have a meaning?”

Harvey follows his gaze, then chuckles. “What do you think?” he asks, nipping his coffee.

“I guess it must be, because if it’s just normal decoration then someone really messed up. It’s not symmetrical,” he elaborates at Harvey’s questioning look.

“That bothers you? That it’s not symmetrical?”

“Not per se, but it’s weird, isn’t it? Like… it should be the same. These things are usually the same. So it must have some sort of meaning.”

“Hm. And what do you think it means?”

Mike throws him a look at his entirely too amused expression, but considers the question. “Maybe something along the lines of not fitting into a binary, you know, doing your own thing? Or it’s just about two people complementing each other really well despite their differences.”

He gives Harvey an expectant look, waiting for an explanation, but all he does is hum.

“Then I guess that’s what it means.”

“What- that’s not even an answer.” He narrows his eyes. “It doesn’t actually have a meaning, does it?”

Harvey shrugs. “Isn’t the point of art what you take out of it rather than what the artist put into it?"

Mike frowns at him, then huffs, shaking his head.

“Art people are so weird,” he mutters. Harvey lets out a laugh, short but genuine, and the sound surprises Mike, making him smile into his coffee.

“You say that like you aren’t one of them.”

“I’m not,” he protests. “I mean, at least not like that. I don’t have any weird unidentifiable things in my apartment. Except for that Tupperware box at the back of my fridge,” he adds, and Harvey laughs again. This time he doesn’t bother hiding his grin.

“Do you wanna know a secret? I’m not one of them either. Or at least I didn’t use to be. I was a jock first before I got into the arts.”

“No way.” Mike stares at him. “Oh my god. Now that you say it, I can totally see it. What was it? Football?”

“Baseball,” Harvey corrects, the corner of his mouth lifting. “And I was damn good at it, too.”

“Of course you were,” Mike mutters. “So what made you go from that to… this?”

“It wasn’t a choice I made as much as a necessity. I was gonna be a professional player, until I injured my shoulder. Couldn’t pitch right anymore. So I had to go another way.” He shrugs. “I worked for a while, then I met Jessica, and the rest is history.”

“Wow,” Mike mutters. “Do you… miss it?”

“Sometimes. It’s not that I regret how my life turned out, because I love what I do and I’m damn great at it. I wouldn’t want to miss all the opportunities I’ve gotten because I decided to pursue acting. But that other dream you had doesn’t just go away because you can’t fulfill it, does it? It’s still there. I don’t think about it much, but every now and then it comes up.”

“Yeah,” Mike says, nodding. He’s intimately familiar with the feeling.

“But it’s not like I’ve given it all up,” Harvey continues. “I still watch baseball. I work out a lot.”

“Clearly,” Mike says before he can stop himself. Harvey looks entirely too pleased.

“Another one?” he asks when Mike puts his cup down.

“I’m good, thanks.”

His eyes fall on the clock behind Harvey, and he realizes with a start how long they’ve been talking. He’s sure that’s not what Harvey had in mind when he suggested a quick coffee break.

“Oh, wow. It got late. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“You’re not. I’ve got all night.” Harvey checks the time, narrowing his eyes. “Are you hungry? We could order in and keep working until the food arrives.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mike agrees readily, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I could eat.”

“What are you in the mood for? I was thinking about this great pizzeria three blocks from here, but we can get whatever you like.”

“Pizza sounds great, actually. Oh, I want mine with cheese in the crust. Do they do that?”

Harvey gives him a disdainful look. “I’m sure.”

He opens a drawer and throws him the menu. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give them a call.”

Mike goes for a classic margherita with extra garlic and the cheesy crust, and Harvey orders a wild mushroom pizza with caramelized onions for himself.

“Fifty minutes,” he informs him when he hangs up.

“Great.” Mike straightens, wiggling his eyebrows. “So, what’s next? Do you want me to dance naked on the table? Go down to your doorman and declare my undying love for him?”

Harvey chuckles. “Maybe next time. I thought we’d end by reading a scene from the play. Look into Honey’s character a little as we go along.”

“Oh, yeah!” Mike lights up. “Awesome. I have some notes on that, actually. We could go over them together?”

“Let’s do it,” Harvey agrees, leading him back into the living room.

They sit down on the sofa this time, loosely mimicking the setting of the scene, and then they dive right into it, making good use of the time they have left.

Harvey offers a calm and insinuated Nick to balance out Mike’s performance, putting the focus on his Honey for now, unrefined as she – or rather he – still is, watching and commenting, questioning his acting choices and weighing the answers carefully.

It’s validating and humbling at the same time – it lets Mike see very clearly what he can do, and what he can’t yet. He has a lot to learn, but it’s effort he’s happy to put in. And anyway, it’s a fun kind of labor, highly productive and deeply satisfying.

Not working is fun too, though. The pizza arrives after what definitely doesn’t feel like fifty minutes, and Mike is almost sorry to interrupt their flow, but quickly forgets about that because the pizza really is amazing, and so is Harvey’s company.

He expected them to get along, having known from the first time they met that he’d enjoy spending time with him, but it still surprises him to see that the feeling is mutual. They talk as they eat, and Mike forces him to try the cheese crust, scoffing when Harvey refuses to admit that he likes it even though he clearly does, and somehow neither of them seems to be in a rush to cut the evening short, even when the food is long gone.

It’s past eight when Mike eventually grabs his things to get home, feeling very accomplished and quite a bit farther ahead than he was this morning. He definitely didn’t intend to stay this long, but if Harvey doesn’t mind him occupying his space, he sure as hell isn’t complaining either.

“Thank you for taking the time for this,” he says, closing his bag as Harvey shows him out. “And thanks again for dinner.”

Harvey just waves his hand. “You can buy next time.”

“Deal. When?”

“I’m free Friday night, if that works for you. Otherwise it’ll have to be next week.”

“I’ve got nothing else on, so Friday it is. I look forward to it.”

Harvey nods. “Practice the entrance scene until then,” he tells him, and Mike mock-salutes.

“You got it. See you Friday!” he calls out before he disappears around the corner, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a smile that sticks all the way home.

At least until he rounds the corner to his apartment and stops dead in his tracks. Because waiting in front of his door is Trevor, hands pushed into his pockets, a sheepish expression on his face.

“What the fuck,” Mike says flatly.

Trevor rubs his neck. “Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. What are you doing here, Trevor?”

“I wanted to see you. What the hell happened to you, man? All I know is that the deal went wrong, you go MIA, and then you tell me to get lost and refuse to talk?”

“Yeah, so? What’s your point? Seems pretty clear from where I’m standing. You put me in a fucked up position, dude, and it was only through sheer dumb luck that I didn’t end up in fucking prison.”

He takes a step towards him, giving in to the anger flaring up in him.

“And we both know that wasn’t the first time you got me into a situation like that. Enough is enough, Trevor. I always let you get away with everything, because you were my friend and you helped me through the shittiest time of my life. And you know how grateful I am for that, but there are limits, and this…” He gesticulates between them. “This is it. We’re done. And I need you to fucking respect that.”

Trevor lets out a deep breath, his jaw working as he shakes his head.

“So what’s the plan, huh?” he asks, holding out his hands. “You’re just gonna sit at home and smoke up by yourself?”

Mike almost wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, that even Trevor seems to think that’s the only reason he kept him around, but the sound sticks in his throat, overshadowed by something he distinctly recognizes as hurt.

“I got a job, actually,” he says coolly, brushing past him to get to the door, but Trevor doesn’t move away. “I’m starting over. Without you, so maybe I’ll actually get it right this time.”

Trevor scoffs. “What kind of job’s gonna accomplish that?”

Mike shakes his head. “You’re such a dick, you know that? If you must know, I’m gonna be in a play. On Broadway. I’ve got the chance to do something I really care about here, and I’m not gonna risk that for anything. Or anyone.”

“A play?” Trevor echoes, his evident disbelief almost insulting. “How the hell did that happen?”

“You know, I’d love nothing more than to tell you that story, but I’m afraid I’m done talking to you.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Scratching the back of his neck, Trevor doesn’t quite meet his eyes when he adds, “Listen, about that briefcase…”

“Oh, jesus. You’re only here for the fucking weed, aren’t you? You don’t give a shit about me or what’s going on in my life. You’re just-“

Mike breaks off, shaking his head. His hands itch to hit something, preferably Trevor, but he takes a deep breath instead and sets his jaw.

“Actually, you know what?”

He pushes him aside and unlocks the door, storming into his apartment to get the briefcase where he hid it until he figured out what to do about it. Turning around, he pushes it into his arms, holding up his hands as he steps back.

“I was wondering what I should do with it, but if you’re here already, you can just take it off my hands. I want nothing to do with this anymore. I’m out.”

Trevor takes it wordlessly, and Mike is glad for it, because he’s sure that whatever he could say would only make things worse than they already are.

“I wouldn’t show up here again, if I were you. Don’t call me, don’t text, just stay the fuck away if you don’t want me to call the damn cops on you. We’re done.”

The crestfallen look on Trevor’s face is the last thing he sees before he shuts the door in his face, and Mike stays where he is until he hears him move away, one hand on the handle, his heart pounding in his chest.

*

Starting over is what he’s going to do, he told Trevor, and Mike is determined to keep his word. In some ways, he feels like he’s already right in the middle of it; he stuck to what he promised and hasn’t smoked up once since the first audition – he wanted to, a couple of times, but resisting the urge turned out to be easier than he feared – and he’s already knee-deep in his preparations for the role, doing something actually productive with his days for the first time in forever.

But despite all the changes he’s made, there’s still a rather insistent element of disbelief to this whole thing. Mike hasn’t been up on stage yet to start rehearsing, he hasn’t tried on the clothes Honey is going to wear, he hasn’t even talked to Jessica since he got the job, and no matter what he does, there’s a part of him that refuses to believe the play is actually going to happen. That sits at home at night (because as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn’t exactly have many friends, and most of them he knew through Trevor anyway, so hanging out isn’t really an option anymore) and thinks about his life and all the mistakes he made and the stupid part of him that kind of misses Trevor, no matter how angry he is at him, and _that_ is not a road he wants to go down.

Which is why it’s perfect timing when he’s notified that the remaining roles have been cast and the first readthrough is scheduled for the end of the week.

He makes sure to arrive early, bringing all his notes with him just in case they’re needed. Jessica and a woman introducing herself as Sheila Sazs in a surprisingly high, yet firm voice are already there, and so is Harvey – the latter not surprising him in the slightest, but still brightening his mood.

“You’re on time,” Harvey says when he approaches him, instantly more at ease for having him around. “Good.”

“I’m, like, super early, but whatever,” Mike returns. Harvey gives him a dry look.

“Early is on time. On time is already late.”

“Sure. Whatever you say. Can I sit here?” he asks, nodding at the empty seat next to him. Harvey wordlessly points at the tag with Mike’s name on it that he didn’t notice before, and he grins, hanging his bag over the backrest. He stops before he can sit down, discovering the table at the opposite end of the room.

“Oh, snacks!”

Harvey snorts. “Just admit you’re here for the free food and be done with it.”

“Of course I am. What did you think I was here for?”

He glances at Jessica, hesitating, but upon finding a cup of coffee and some grapes with two cereal bars at her spot, he heads to the table and inspects the selection, bringing something for Harvey as well when he returns.

“Coffee?” Mike asks, and he nods, not bothering to give further instructions. He already knows how he likes it anyway.

“So,” he says when he puts the two cups down, swinging his legs over the table. “Sheila Sazs and Louis Litt. Have you worked with either of them before?”

“Not with Sheila. With Louis… somewhat. We were in the same year at Juilliard, did some projects together. I actually suggested him for the part. He’s perfect for it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” Mike mutters, then looks around the room to see if anyone’s listening in. “Is it true, then?” he asks, lowering his voice. “What they say about him?”

“That he’s difficult to work with, extremely particular, and a goddamn diva on and off the stage? Yes.”

“Jesus. Well, I’m… scared,” Mike admits.

Harvey pats his knee. “Just remember, what doesn’t kill you and all that.”

“That really doesn’t help, you know.”

“Good morning,” someone booms before Harvey can say anything in response, and Mike glances over his shoulder only to slide off the table with a start, because before him is no other than Louis Litt himself.

Mike’s stomach sinks when he strides towards him immediately, but he quickly realizes it’s not him his attention is on.

“Harvey,” he says, coming to stand before them with a nod.

“Louis. Good to see you.”

“Likewise. Jessica told me you recommended me for the part. I’m so glad you can finally admit how exceptionally well we harmonize.”

“I don’t know about that,” Harvey remarks, picking up his coffee with a lift of his eyebrows. “I seem to remember quite a few clashes between us every time we were forced to work together.”

Louis waves his hand. “That’s part of the creative process and you know it. I’m already looking forward to all the clashes we’re going to have on this production.”

Mike nearly chokes on the sip of coffee he just took and regrets it instantly when Louis’ eyes zero in on him.

“Who are you? I haven’t seen you around.”

“I’m… Mike. Mike Ross. I’m playing Honey,” he adds, and Louis shakes his head impatiently.

“I know that. What else have you done?”

“You mean in terms of professional productions? Because the answer to that would be… nothing.” He shrugs. “This is my first real gig.”

“Oh, good lord. You’re a thespian baby. That’s why I’ve never heard of you before.”

“I can assure you, that’s going to change after this play,” Harvey cuts in, the corner of his mouth lifting when he meets Mike’s eyes. “You know Jessica wouldn’t have chosen him if he wasn’t right for the part.”

“No, indeed she wouldn’t have,” Louis agrees, and Mike fidgets under the intensity of his gaze, feeling a little bit like a small animal caught in a predator’s trap.

The moment is thankfully cut short when Jessica approaches them to greet Louis, who turns around to follow her to his seat as they talk. His eyes keep returning to Mike though, and he tries his hardest not to let it unsettle him.

The room fills up quickly, and his mind turns to other things soon when Jessica rises from her seat and welcomes them to the readthrough. They make a quick round of everyone introducing themselves, and Mike does his best to keep up with the producers, the playwright, and the various members of theater staff before Jessica takes the floor again.

“Working with source material as fascinating and thought-provoking as this is always a treat, but even more so when you get to put a unique spin on it, which is exactly what we’re doing with our ‘Virginia Woolf’. It’ll be hard work, but you all know that, and I firmly believe that we’ve put together a team that is going to make the labor we invest in this project highly rewarding and worthwhile.”

Louis meets his eyes then, and he swallows, hoping to god she’s right.

“Since our Honey has undergone some significant biological changes,” she adds with a pointed glance at Mike, who flashes her a grin, “we rewrote parts of the script to change her hysterical pregnancy into a phantom tumor. We decided to leave everything else in, such as the remarks about Honey’s slim hips that George keeps making, indicating his inability to wrap his head around a relationship that doesn’t fit the traditional structure. Let’s see if it works. If anyone has any ideas or remarks, please voice them at any time.”

The room is filled with rustles as everyone turns the pages of their scripts, and before Mike knows it they are halfway through the first scene, and even with all of them sitting there in their own clothes in a place that looks nothing like the stage, trying on the characters more than anything else, it’s beautiful.

Mike can’t help but admire what’s happening as the words come alive between the four of them, but even more than that he feels a sense of reverence; like he’s actually part of something, and something special no less. The room is brimming with the raw talent everyone is bringing to the table, and he swallows, acutely aware that he’s right in the middle of it.

It’s a little intimidating, but it’s also the most excited he’s been since… well, since he got the part, and he thinks about Harvey’s words on the subject of fear and decides not to let it get to him, not this time.

And so he throws himself into it, making sure that every line he reads carries a weight that matches the energy around the table, that will make people see why he’s sitting there instead of some pretty young woman fresh out of Juilliard.

He catches Harvey’s eyes as they read their lines together and tries to hide a smile when, despite the amused curve of his lips, he finds distinct approval in them.

The entire experience gives him such a high that he barely notices the morning passing until they’ve read the final scene and everyone bursts into a spontaneous round of applause.

“Amazing,” Jessica states, a deeply satisfied smile on her face, and Mike can’t help but agree.

The meeting dissolves once a few organizational things have been discussed, and he’s almost sorry to go home after this, feeling like he could run a marathon with the energy still coursing through his system.

He half expects Louis to corner him before he leaves, but finds him deep in a rather intense-looking conversation with Sheila Sazs – if in a good or bad way, he couldn’t begin to guess.

“Hey,” he says on impulse when Harvey rises from his chair, “you got anywhere to be?”

“I’m meeting Donna in half an hour,” he tells him, a tad apologetically.

“Oh. Right. Tell her I said hi.”

“You’re gonna see a lot of her in the upcoming months. You’ll get to tell her yourself,” Harvey points out. Grabbing the rest of his coffee, he lifts an eyebrow. “You free tomorrow afternoon? We can squeeze another tutoring session in before the on-stage readthrough next week.”

“Absolutely. Your place? Around two, three?”

“My place. Make it three and you’ve got yourself a deal.” He tilts his head towards the door. “You going my way?”

“What, you’re not being picked up by your fancy ass driver today?”

“It’s a thirty-minute walk, and it’s a nice day. I’m not actually as indulgent as you seem to think I am, you know.”

Mike huffs. “Yeah, right, Mr. I-own-an-apartment-in-the-clouds. I actually brought my bike and I’m going the other way, so you’ll have to do without the pleasure of my company.”

“Tragic. How will I survive?” Harvey asks dryly, but Mike catches the corner of his mouth lifting. “See you tomorrow, then.”

He turns towards the door, then stops and throws him a look. “Good work today, kid. Keep it up.”

“I intend to,” Mike returns, trying to hide his pleased smile. From the look Harvey gives him, he did a poor job of it, but somehow he doesn’t really care all that much.

*

“Good morning, everyone,” Mike announces, entering the room with a beaming smile and a skip in his step.

He’s not usually so energetic at this time of the day, but he was up and running before his alarm this morning, ready to take on the day. He knows this isn’t going to be much different from the first readthrough; there’s no costumes yet and the set design is still in the making, but they’re going to be on stage today and that in itself is exciting.

They’ll fill the space that they have at their hands for the first time, figuring out what works and what doesn’t, where to put which prop and where to stand to make it look as good as possible. What they’ll be doing today most likely won’t have much resemblance with the final version of the play, but it’s the first step of the journey ahead that will lead them there, and Mike is ready to take it.

Louis, Sheila, and Jessica are already there, barely acknowledging his greeting before continuing their discussion, but it looks important, so Mike doesn’t interrupt. His eyes scan the room, and he catches sight of Donna’s red hair first, almost not recognizing the person next to her.

“No way,” he breathes out, blinking slowly as he approaches them, but the image doesn’t change.

Harvey is talking to Donna, wearing a slim but comfortable looking pair of dark gray sweatpants that Mike is pretty sure is designer, but that’s not what caught his eye.

“You’re kidding,” he says as he comes to stand before them, a gleeful smile spreading on his lips as he stares at Harvey’s faded shirt with the letters spelling out _U.S.S. ENTERPRISE_ on his chest. And the logo to match it, of course.

Harvey lifts an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“You got a problem, kid?”

“Oh, I’m not the one with the problem,” Mike gives back with a pointed look at his shirt. “I mean, Star Trek? For real?”

Donna snorts. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” she mutters, and Mike raises his eyebrows at her, then looks back at Harvey.

“Are you, like… a nerd?”

“Bite your tongue. Captain Kirk is the man, and I won’t hear another word about it.”

“I’m not fighting you on that. Mainly because I don’t know enough about Star Trek to argue about it. Because I’m not a nerd.”

“Yeah,” Harvey scoffs, “right. Try telling that to someone who believes it.”

He looks him up and down, lifting an eyebrow. “You should wear something more comfortable next time. I assume the costumes on this production aren’t going to be as annoying as they are on, say, Shakespearean ones, but you’re still gonna want to enjoy the time before you have to wear yours constantly.”

“Makes sense. I just wasn’t sure what was acceptable to wear to rehearsals with actual actors, but now that I’ve seen you in _that_ …”

Harvey sends him a withering look. “I was going to be nice and say something about you being an ‘actual actor’ now too, but you know what? With an attitude like that, maybe you really aren’t. You clearly can’t be professional.”

“And yet you’re the one who hired me,” Mike points out, a grin on his face as he trails after him when he only turns away with a huff.

He chats with Donna for a little while, catching Louis’ eyes over her shoulder once or twice, but before he can follow up on that look, Jessica calls them all together to kick off the morning.

After a few warm-up exercises that Mike did not expect to go as smoothly as they do, his previous experiences being limited to working with a bunch of high schoolers who didn’t take these things as seriously as everyone around him does now (even though it’s almost creepy _how_ seriously some people take them, namely Louis, who gets really intense about it), they get started on the first scene.

At first Mike is overly aware of the fact that he’s the only one who is still in his twenties and doesn’t have any professional training or big plays to his name, but the feeling is quickly overridden by the heady rush of acting alongside the rest of the cast.

Jessica really does know what she’s doing - the chemistry between them is palpable from the moment they get started. Most of them are still reading their lines from the script, interrupting themselves and each other every once in a while when something doesn’t work, but even so Mike is already starting to see the framework for the play they’re going to build up over the next few weeks, and there’s no doubt in his mind that it’s going to be incredible.

He gets lost in the rhythm of it easily, and as happy as he is to dive into the material, as glad is he for the break Jessica announces halfway through – it may be fun, but it’s hard work too.

He leaves the group to go to his bag, grabbing his water bottle and chugging half of it, and he only realizes when he puts it down that Louis is making a beeline for him.

He stops before him, just looking, and Mike can only bear the weight of his gaze for so long before he clears his throat and asks, “Can I… help you with anything?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s more a question of what I can help _you_ with.”

“I’m… sorry, what? I’m- not sure what you mean.”

Louis smiles, which is somehow a scary look on him rather than a friendly one. “On every production, there’s a pony that stands out from the rest of the herd,” he explains.

“A pony,” Mike repeats slowly.

Louis nods. “Exactly. Someone who shows potential, but is unrefined still. Someone I can take under my wing and stamp my own little brand on.”

“Uh,” Mike says. Louis takes a step towards him, and he instinctively wants to take one back, but there’s a wall right behind him, and the way between him and the door is barred by the very person who’s triggering his fight-or-flight instinct.

Louis leans in almost unbearably close before he tells him, “I think you’re that pony, Mike.”

Swallowing, Mike attempts a smile and hopes it doesn’t come out as a grimace. “I’m… flattered,” he tries, frowning before he shakes his head, “but I’m afraid that I’ll have to decline. Very… very respectfully, of course. It’s just that I already have a mentor of sorts.”

“Really,” Louis says, unimpressed. “Who would that be?”

“Well, Harvey offered to tutor me outside of rehearsals, so…”

He trails off at the look on Louis face, but he doesn’t seem to need more than that.

“Harvey did?” he repeats, frowning. “That sounds fake. Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”

“Seeing as we’ve already had a bunch of meetings during which he tutored me… pretty sure, yeah.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Interesting,” he says after a beat, and that’s all Mike is getting from him on the matter. Not that he minds. He eventually signals that he means to move past him, and Louis lets him, but he can still feel the weight of his eyes on him as he returns to the stage.

He’s glad for the opportunity to throw himself into the play again once they get started on the second part, and by the end of the morning he’s pleasantly exhausted and rather pumped for next time already.

Jessica looks equally pleased when she glances around the room.

“Thanks for today, everyone. Remember, we’ll have our choreographer with us from next week on, and I’ll let everyone know when we have the costume fittings scheduled.”

Mike lifts his eyebrows, trailing after Harvey when the group dissolves.

“Choreographer, huh?” he asks. “We’re not gonna, uh, dance, are we? Jessica isn’t turning this into some sort of musical?”

Harvey snorts. “No need to worry about that. My musical theater days are long behind me.”

Mike’s jaw drops. “Harvey. You _didn’t_.”

“I will say no more on the matter.”

“Oh my god. What was it? Les Misérables? Phantom of the Opera? Shit, was it Beauty and the Beast?”

“What about ‘I’m not saying more’ didn’t you understand?”

“Come on, you can’t just drop this bomb on me and then not tell me anything else.”

“That information is classified, and I’m afraid you don’t have clearance to access it.”

Mike narrows his eyes. “This is so unfair. You’re a dick, you know that?”

Harvey just snorts, throwing his bag over his shoulders as he heads for the exit. “Go cry to someone else about it.”

He pauses, then turns to him, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You do know you have a dancing scene in this play, don’t you?”

Mike freezes on the spot. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself because _of course_ he conveniently forgot about that part, but it must have been loud enough for Harvey to hear, because his laughter sounds from the hall long after he has left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://dreamhomeidea.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/20180622121816-35.png) is the white sculpture/decoration in Harvey's apartment. And [this](http://2bhip.com/product_images/Image_Hosting/Trevco/DRT/CBS1509-AR.jpg) is the shirt he's wearing to rehearsals. What a nerd.


	3. Chapter 3

Rehearsals have started a good week ago, and while most things are going exceptionally well, Harvey is gradually realizing that they have a problem.

It’s not that Mike isn’t a good actor. He’s very good. He’s great, in fact. But he lacks professional training, and it shows. He has no trouble fabricating the emotion and state of mind he needs, accessing and conveying Honey’s inner life perfectly – that’s not the issue. He’s just totally clueless when it comes to including his body in his act.

Harvey doesn’t think much of it at first. They’re all still finding their flow, trying things for their characters and realizing that they don’t work more often than not. Nothing out of the ordinary for this stage of a production.

Their choreographer is joining them for rehearsals now, a young woman called Rachel Zane he met once before, who seems to know exactly what she’s doing and has very clear ideas of what she does and doesn’t want. She, like all of them, is just throwing things out there to adjust and refine later, giving them simple instructions to see what fits the vision in her head.

Simple instructions that Mike fails to execute.

So no, he doesn’t think much of it at first, but when it happens again, and again, until Harvey eventually stops keeping count, there’s unfortunately no pretending anymore that he isn’t facing a very real problem.

“Sorry, that sucked, I know,” Mike says, and the next time it’s, “oops, my bad,” with a laugh, and then he purposefully overdoes it to mask the fact that he just isn’t getting it right, but Harvey sees straight through his laughter. He still knows.

What he doesn’t know is _why_.

The idea behind Rachel’s instructions is actually pretty straightforward. The play consists of two couples, both with their own issues, on opposite ends of the spectrum in many ways. The plan is to emphasize the point through how they move with each other – George and Martha being stiff and more or less staggering from A to B, a brutal yet age-old coordination that still works somehow even if it’s anything but beautiful, while Nick and Honey, in accordance with their more tender approach to marriage, flow around the stage smoothly, more attuned to each other rather than obviously dysfunctional.

And that’s where Mike has trouble. He can’t get the flow right. His movements aren’t smooth in any way, and they sure as hell are not attuned to Harvey’s, no matter how easy he tries to make it for him.

He’s a good actor, but he’s clearly not accustomed to conveying that through his body, and Harvey can tell that he’s trying, but he’s just not striking home. And he doesn’t think he’s the only one who’s noticing.

His worries only get worse when he catches Rachel approaching Jessica on the side, whispering something with a frown before calling everyone together for yet another round of balance and trust exercises, even though they started out with almost half an hour of that.

But even those will only get you so far.

Rachel’s frown doesn’t leave her face all throughout the rehearsal, and Jessica glances at him after another repetition of the entrance scene, and Mike jokes his way through his obvious discomfort whenever he messes up a move, and none of them say anything yet, because they _are_ only just starting out and it’s only fair to give Mike the benefit of the doubt and let him figure this out by himself first.

The thing is, Harvey honestly isn’t sure if he’s going to. And if he doesn’t, that’s going to be an issue.

*

“Harvey!”

Turning around, he smiles when he sees Mike waving at him from the other end of the street, hurrying to catch up with him.

“Morning,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee while he waits. “Someone’s looking chipper today.”

“Hell yeah. I’m so ready for this. Are you excited? I never got to wear a costume that actually looked good on me before. Or cost more than fifteen bucks. I’m so excited.”

“I can tell,” Harvey says, amused. “I guess that’s one of the perks of working on a Broadway production. The budget is a lot more forgiving than that of a high school play.”

“Yeah, that’s what really sold me on playing the part,” Mike gives back with a snort. The excitement radiating from him is palpable, and it leaves Harvey smiling.

He doesn’t know what Mike is expecting from this meeting with their costume designer, but he hopes that he won’t be disappointed. His wide-eyed awe is almost… cute, for lack of a better word, and part of him wants that to last as long as possible before he becomes acquainted with all the less impressive and exciting parts of the job.

A woman is already inside when they enter the building, turning around at the sound of their voices.

“Hi. Harvey Specter and Mike Ross?”

“That’s us,” Mike agrees, his smile almost ridiculously bright. “Good to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m Amy, and I’m designing the costumes for the play. Before you ask, yes, I _am_ young, no this is _not_ my first time around the block, and even if it were, I’m just gonna need you to trust the fact that I was hired for a reason, the reason being that I’m damn good at what I do. Got it?”

Harvey lifts his eyebrows. “No further questions, ma’am.”

“Uh, yeah, me neither.” Mike blinks at her. “Is that your normal introduction, or...?”

She rolls her eyes. “One of your colleagues arrived here twenty minutes ago and found it necessary to quiz me on my qualifications. And my intentions, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

“Oh, good god,” Harvey says under his breath. He knew bringing Louis in was a bold move, but he didn’t expect him to go crazy so early on in the process. “I’m sorry for anything he said to you that was… most likely extremely inappropriate and emotionally scarring. I can only assure you that Mike and I are definitely easier to handle than him.”

“Funny how you left number four out of that equation. Your lady castmate is here too, and she’s made some quite interesting comments of her own.”

“Oh, no,” Mike mutters next to him.

Harvey exchanges a look with him. “Sounds… delightful.”

Sheila is the one he’s spoken to the least so far outside their scenes, and he’s not quite sure what to make of her. She’s not an unpleasant woman, far from the role she embodies so well on stage, and no doubt a quick-witted conversationalist – perhaps too quick-witted, her tone a little sharp even for Harvey’s tastes sometimes.

She’s an outstanding actress, and he appreciates having someone with her talent playing their Martha, but he’d rather not pay the price of their entire staff quitting on them or being bullied if they stay.

He expected Louis to act out now and then, but if the two of them start teaming up… best to keep an eye on that and nip it in the bud if necessary.

“Where are they?”

“I sent them off with a bunch of clothes to try on and draw up a shortlist before we continue. Wanted a few minutes to myself so I could clear my head. Though they’ve been gone for a while, now that you say it,” Amy mutters, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, don’t worry about it. They’re probably busy ripping each other’s head off.”

Better theirs than Amy’s, who seems to think the same thing.

“Right. In the meantime, why don’t the two of you put your stuff somewhere and follow me. You’re only going to wear one costume throughout the play, but I came up with a few different styles that I want you to try before we settle on one. We can mix and match too if you want. Feel free to go wild with it and just let me know what feels right in the end.”

“Sounds great,” Mike agrees readily, and Harvey follows with an amused smile as she leads them to two racks with their character’s names on it. He skims the selection Amy put together, finding it to his liking, but before he can really get into it, his attention is divided by Mike’s delighted gasp.

“Look at this!” he exclaims, a massive grin spreading on his face. “These clothes are so fucking boring. I’ve never worn anything this terrible in my life. I love it.”

“Go on then,” Harvey encourages him, chuckling. “Try something on.”

He didn’t exactly mean for him to try it on right then and there, but Mike seems to have no qualms about getting undressed in front of him, and Harvey makes sure not to stare, lest he should get uncomfortable and regret that decision. Not that he has a reason to be self-conscious, as the discreet look he sneaks at him reveals.

Mike throws on a beige Henley first, narrowing his eyes in consideration before he chooses a light pink cardigan and slips into it. He gives himself a good look in the mirror as he twists and turns, the grin practically carved into his face.

“This. Is. Awesome.”

“You look terrible,” Harvey says dryly, chuckling when Mike nods.

“I mean, this is totally not what I pictured Honey wearing, but just look at it. I could pull this off. I _want_ to pull this off.”

“I can see why, but wouldn’t you rather try the sparkling velvet cardigan before you settle on something?”

Mike’s jaw drops when Harvey holds out the piece of clothing in question, accepting it reverently.

“Oh, this is incredible. I’m only just getting started, believe me. I’m gonna try on _everything_.”

He does, even the pieces he rules out from the start, which Harvey finds amusing at first, but when he sees how much fun he’s having with it he understands why.

He tries on items from Harvey’s rack too, doing an exaggerated imitation of Nick when he’s not too busy clutching his stomach from laughing so much, and the unadulterated joy and excitement he radiates is so intoxicating that Harvey couldn’t stop himself from getting infected if he wanted to.

Mike looks through his clothes, gasping when he sees a checked sleeveless sweater. “You have to try this one,” he says, throwing it at Harvey, searching his own rack for the velvet cardigan while he puts it on.

“Now this is what I call high fashion,” Harvey remarks, looking at them side by side in the mirror once he’s slipped into it.

“I know, right? Someone alert whoever’s in charge of New York Fashion Week, because we’re stealing their thunder.”

He leans into Harvey, pursing his lips as he blinks at their reflection like a true model.

“Hold on, I need to take a picture of this. Put your arm around me.”

Harvey does, and when he has his photo they take a few more of the funniest combinations they can come up with, and by the time Amy returns to check on them, Mike isn’t the only one holding his stomach from laughing.

Harvey hasn’t had this much fun with a costume fitting in years – in fact, he doesn’t think he ever did at all – and when he looks at Mike’s wide grin as he stares at himself in the mirror, he can take a wild guess as to what exactly it is that changed.

Despite all the extra work they’re putting in with their tutoring sessions, Harvey tends to forget that this is Mike’s first time around the block. He is so professional once he’s in character, and the exact opposite when he steps out of it. It’s enough to give Harvey whiplash, but it doesn’t irritate him, on the contrary – it’s fun to witness, to be around Mike when he experiences something new, reminding him what a blast he used to have with these things before he got used to them at some point along the way.

He didn’t realize he stopped truly appreciating those moments, and it’s sobering to have to admit to it in the face of someone who actively does. He certainly never meant to get used to it, because he knows how privileged he is to live his dreams like this.

But he did, somehow. And so he looks to Mike even more, absorbing his reactions to everything, giving in to the desire to experience all of his first times with him. It reminds Harvey of how he felt back when it was _his_ first time, the childlike awe and fake confidence, the intensity he experienced every moment with before they all blurred together in one big, emotional, beautiful daze.

Plus, it’s rather endearing to see Mike like this. Not that he’d ever say as much out loud.

It must be the nostalgia getting to him. Can’t be old age; he’s too young for that, even in theater years.

Amy rips him from his thoughts when she gives them a once-over, asking, “Everything alright here?”

Mike turns on his heels and beams at her. “Better than alright, believe me. These clothes are awesome.”

Amy smiles. “Yeah, I know. So, you guys drew up a shortlist? Sheila and Louis are done with theirs, and I want the four of you together when we make the final decision to prevent anything from clashing.”

“Sure. I tried everything on, and I’ve narrowed it down to three outfits.”

“Great. Take them with you and we’ll decide which one’s best together. Mike, you’re ready too?”

“Yeah. Just one quick question before we go. Would you rather go out with me in this cardigan… or in that one?”

The low, suggestive tone of his voice makes the atrocious pieces of clothing he’s holding up even worse, and Harvey can’t help the snort escaping him when Amy gives him an unimpressed look.

“You as in Mike, or Honey?”

“Does it really make a difference?”

“You’re right. The answer is no both times.”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest. “I’ll try not to let that weigh on our relationship, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Suck it up, Juliet,” Harvey remarks dryly, lifting an eyebrow. “What did I tell you about rejection?”

“But from a gorgeous lady like her? How could I not be hurt by that?”

Amy huffs, but Harvey catches her lips curving upwards before she turns away.

He rolls his eyes despite the smile tugging at his own lips. He should have expected this. From his first day on this production, Mike has been making friends with virtually everyone. The other day he even saw him chat with the theater’s janitor after rehearsals. He’s excited about everyone he meets, with the exception of Louis, who he’s rather intimidated by, and they all seem to enjoy his company too. He chats people up so easily, it’s almost ridiculous. Harvey has no idea what it is, but there must be something about him that makes everyone want to be his friend.

For all the difficulties he’s having in certain areas, he has become an integral part of the team in no time. Harvey doesn’t think he’s even aware of it.

“Wow, Sheila,” Mike announces when they meet her and Louis in the front, “that dress is horrifying. I love it.”

“It’s quite atrocious, isn’t it? Rather perfect for Martha, I believe. Though I haven’t yet decided between this dress and the yellow sweater over there.”

“Well, I know which one’s getting _my_ vote.” Mike turns around, nodding appreciatively. “Louis. Looking dapper.”

“I know. This shirt fits my body type like a glove.” Louis looks at himself in the mirror, tilting his head. “I might still go with a darker shade, though.”

Pursing his lips to conceal his smile, Harvey shakes his head as he watches the interaction. Even with them, it’s effortless. An admirable talent, really. Not that Harvey has trouble talking to people – it’s a skill he perfected years ago, but he usually does it with intent, while Mike just… seems to do it naturally.

“If you choose the darker shirt, it’ll go nicely with this cardigan I’m thinking about,” Harvey points out, holding out the item for him to see.

“Oh, it will indeed. You’re right, Harvey. We _should_ wear something complementary, something similar, yet unmistakably distinctive. To highlight our characters’ dynamic.”

“My thoughts precisely. And look at that, if I wear those pants with it, it’ll work even better.”

Louis steps closer to examine the pants he’s wearing – Harvey has long learned to lose any qualms about personal space when it comes to working with him – and nods appreciatively.

“Great, you two are already figuring things out,” Amy says, clasping her hands together. “Let’s see what we can do about Martha and Honey.”

She makes Sheila and Mike change into the other clothes they’re considering, and seeing them all next to each other really does make a difference in terms of realizing which outfit works best. Once they’ve chosen, she asks all of them to change into their full costumes to snap a few pictures of them individually and as a group. Mike does the same while he waits for his turn, insisting on angling his phone so that Harvey is in the picture with him, and he makes sure to look unimpressed for a few photos before he plays along while Amy deals with Sheila, then with Louis.

“Okay, you two. Can I do you in the same room or do I have to separate you as well?”

“I’m not shy,” Mike says with a shrug, and Harvey nods.

“He’s already seen it all anyway. Go ahead.”

She grabs her pins and measuring tapes, getting to work on his clothes to prepare them for modifications.

“Well, you had your fun,” Harvey tells Mike, who watches as he spreads his arms for her to measure once she’s done with his legs. “Now comes the boring part.”

“For you, not for me,” Amy mumbles with pins between her teeth.

“I mean, I don’t mind watching this either,” Mike says, and Harvey throws him a look, lifting an eyebrow, to which he only responds by sticking his tongue out.

Very mature.

“I don’t know what possessed me to keep you around,” Harvey mutters.

“Uh, I’m awesome and super talented and you just can’t help but adore me for my slightly droll yet lovable nature?”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m not hearing you deny it, so I’m just gonna go ahead and take that as confirmation.”

Harvey doesn’t grace him with a response, because the kid is ridiculous, but he does have a point. Not that he needs to know that. His ego is big enough as it is.

“Okay, your turn,” he says when Amy writes something in her notebook before waving Mike over.

He steps in to take his place, wearing a solemn expression as he spreads his arms. “Do what you must. I’m all yours.”

She huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes, and Harvey bites his lip when Mike glances at him, because he’s _not_ going to encourage his shenanigans.

Of course, his stoic refusal to indulge him only makes him more determined to mess around and get a reaction out of him, but when he ultimately does, Harvey isn’t all that mad about having to admit defeat.

*

No matter how early Harvey shows up somewhere, if Jessica is coming too, she always beats him to the punch and arrives before him. Not surprising, considering that it was her who taught him the importance of being on time in a world full of people that are always late, but it still gets a wry smile out of him when he enters the room and finds her already inside, leaning against a table as she reads through her notes.

“Good morning.”

She looks up. “Harvey. Good, you’re here already. Just the guy I wanted to talk to.”

He holds up a hand, putting his bag down. “I didn’t have time to get one on the way, so let me grab some coffee first and then I’m all yours.”

She nods. “Get me one too while you’re at it. Black, one sugar.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah, I know.”

Joining her at the table with the two cups, he hands one to her wordlessly, waiting for her to finish whatever she’s reading.

“So,” Harvey says when she closes the notebook.

“So,” Jessica repeats.

“All set for the meeting?”

“Of course. I’m curious to meet our publicist, I haven’t worked with him yet. Heard good things, though.”

“Right. Think it’s gonna take long?”

“Why, you got any exciting plans afterwards?”

Harvey shrugs. “I just wanna work on a few scenes later. Run some lines, that sort of thing.”

He hasn’t told her about his tutoring sessions with Mike in so many words, not because he doesn’t want her to know, but because it implies that he’s worried about his performance when he’s really not, merely intending to refine it a little.

“By yourself?”

Of course, he’s never been all that great at keeping things from Jessica.

“No.”

She hums, and he snorts, shaking his head. “Alright, are we going to address this massive elephant in the room now or do you want to wait a little longer?”

A smile pulls on her lips. “Mike Ross,” she just says, raising her eyebrows as she regards him intently.

“What about him?” Harvey asks innocently, raising his cup to his lips.

“He seems to be adjusting well to these new… circumstances he’s finding himself in.”

“I think so too.”

She eyes him. “Are you regretting the decision to bring him into this yet?”

“Not for a second.”

She nods slowly. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

He glances at her. “Are _you_ regretting it?”

“Not yet.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes. “There _is_ the issue of-“

“Yeah,” he cuts her off, because he doesn’t need her to say it. He’s well aware of what she means. “I know.”

Another elephant in the room, that. He knows, and Jessica knows, the entire cast and crew know, and he’s pretty sure Mike knows too, but they’re still in the early stages and there are other things to work out before they get to the fact that Mike is stiff as a board.

They _are_ going to have to work that out at some point, though. And he’d really like to resolve it sooner rather than later, before it becomes an actual issue and they are knee-deep in rehearsals already. It’s not that he thinks it’ll turn into something worth firing Mike over, but it’s exactly the kind of thing that can make or break a performance, and he’d rather not risk having it be the latter.

Jessica gives him a mildly curious look. “Are you taking care of it?”

Well, it’s not like there’s another option.

“Of course,” he tells her, wishing he felt the same confidence he says it with. “Consider it handled.”

“Good,” she says, nodding. “I was counting on that.”

Harvey flashes her a smile before hiding his expression behind his coffee. That answers the question of what today’s tutoring session is going to focus on, then.

Over the next few minutes Donna, the rest of the cast, and some crew members trickle in, Mike being the last of them but still arriving a few minutes early, a fact that Harvey acknowledges with a huffed laugh when he pointedly nods at the clock.

“What, you want an award for being on time?” he asks as he slides into the chair next to his. “Try coming in a little sooner next time, buddy.”

“You know, I think you’re only so grumpy because you show up everywhere an hour early and suffer from a lack of sleep as a result.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m never an hour early. That would be a waste of time.”

“Oh, and thirty minutes isn’t? Thirty minutes that you could have stayed in bed longer, between your warm, ridiculously expensive sheets, the sunlight tickling your nose as you slowly wake up…”

Harvey snorts. “Quiet,” he scolds him, though without heat. “The meeting’s about to begin.”

Sure enough, the publicist has finished his quiet chat with Jessica and risen from his seat, waiting until the chatter dies down before he introduces himself as Jeff Malone.

“I’m the one in charge of any and all PR-related decisions when it comes to this production,” he tells them. “As you’ll know, promotion is about to start, and I’d like to go over the schedule today and make sure nothing’s left unclear. Any questions so far?”

Louis raises his hand. “I’ve got one. Why are we having this meeting? We could have received all that information in written form, like we do on any other production. What’s the point of our being here?”

Considering that his demanding tone borders on downright rude, Jeff stays remarkably calm.

“You’re right about that. There is, however, another thing that I wanted to discuss with the whole group before settling on a strategy, and I figured that it made sense to kill two birds with one stone and get to know everyone a little while we’re at it.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that other thing?”

Jeff turns to Mike with a nod. “Him.”

“Uh… what?” Mike asks when everyone turns to stare at him.

“From what I’ve been told, you stumbled into this production rather spontaneously and thus don’t have any formal training, nor any former jobs we could credit you for. Which means,” he says, addressing the group as a whole, “that there’s the obvious issue of Mike’s bio.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have one,” Jeff elaborates. “Or at least not one that we could print on the playbill.”

“Oh. Right.”

Everyone is looking at Mike again, who is blinking at Jeff, clearly not having thought of that before.

Harvey has to admit that he didn’t think that far ahead either, though he’s sure it’s not a big deal. As per usual, it’s only a matter of how to word it right to make people buy it and be happy about it too.

“So what do we do?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “Spin it so we can sell the whole newcomer angle somehow? Do we try to cover up his lack of experience, or shine light on it on our own terms?”

“Well, there’s no point in trying to hide it. We can’t exactly lie about it without risking a huge backlash if anyone digs a little deeper and finds out we made it all up.”

“Rightfully so,” Jessica cuts in. “I’m not lying about anything. It’s not worth the consequences.”

Jeff flashes her a smile that she doesn’t quite return, but there’s a slight tug at her lips that Harvey knows means she’s satisfied with him.

“Quite right. But even without actively lying about it, we can’t hide the fact that this is your first time on stage. People will know as soon as they see your bio anyway, or rather the lack of it. If there was anything else we could credit you for, it would be on there.”

“Right,” Mike mutters, disheartened.

“The good thing is, we don’t have to hide it to make this work.”

He perks up, and Jeff continues, “There are a number of ways we can go about this. We could go with the newcomer angle, announce it quietly and early on so people will be over it by the time tickets go on sale and the rest of promotion has done its work. Or we can make a show around it, have him speak to journalists about how excited he is and how hard he’s working, etcetera.”

Harvey watches Mike from the side as he speaks, biting his lip in consideration.

“You know what, you’ve got a point,” he says, holding his eyes when he turns to him. “We don’t have to hide it, and people will know anyway, so why not use it to our advantage? This doesn’t have to be a hindrance. We can turn it into an asset. Let people go on this journey with Mike. Let them come along for the ride as he experiences everything for the first time.”

It’s working on him, isn’t it? And he isn’t one to be easily impressed.

“It’s just a matter of appealing to them on an emotional level,” he finishes with a shrug. “Let them feel like they’re becoming his friend as they get to know him, and I guarantee you, they’re gonna want to go see their friend on stage when the time comes.”

“I like it,” Sheila says, nodding slowly. “It’s a good idea. We’ve all seen that he has a way with people, haven’t we? He can sell it.”

Louis glances between her and Harvey, his arms crossed, but he nods too. “He _is_ promising in that regard.”

“In _that_ regard?” Mike asks, but Donna cuts in before Louis can respond.

“He’s right. It won’t even have to be a big stunt or anything. You can just do it on the side as we go along.” She waves her hand. “We’ll set up an Instagram or a Twitter account for you, let you cultivate a following. Like you all said, he’s relatable, he’s fun, people _want_ to like him… shouldn’t be too much of an issue.”

Mike gives her an incredulous look.

“Right. I’m just going to… cultivate a following. As you do.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t have any experiences with social media whatsoever, do you?”

“Not really, no.”

“I thought so.” She pats his hand. “Don’t worry. I’m going to coach you.”

“As will I, just to give you some guidelines on what to do and what to avoid. How to interact, how much you should interact and with whom, the kind of content you’ll want to post, how many stories and how many regular posts make sense, filters, all that.” Jeff smiles in satisfaction when Mike nods, albeit hesitantly. “Good, that’s settled then. We’ll let him start out with an Instagram account. Pictures are more likely to capture and hold people’s attention than tweets, and the less he says, the less likely he is to accidentally say something that’ll ultimately cost us viewers.”

Mike looks vaguely worried, and Harvey elbows him gently and gives him a reassuring smile while Jeff continues to speak. His shoulders don’t relax entirely, but he does untense, and the smile he gives back is genuine.

“Right. Let’s continue with the other items on our list. You’ll be pleased to know that we scheduled the photographer for our poster shooting on the fourteenth. That’s a Friday.”

He gives Louis a pointed look.

“Louis, I did receive your… request to avoid Saturdays due to your wellness activities. Don’t worry, it all worked out in your favor, so you can go mudding in peace.”

Louis looks satisfied, Sheila looks intrigued, Jessica looks torn between amusement and disapproval, Donna looks highly amused and Mike still a little dazed, and Harvey sighs in relief when Jeff clears his throat and moves on to the next topic, taking his mind off the images in his head he’d rather not examine too closely.

They make it through the list by lunchtime, and as the room clears out, Harvey hangs back to wait for Mike.

“You okay?” he asks when he has collected his belongings. “You look a bit… swamped.”

Mike blinks at him. “I know there was a lot going on in that meeting, but for some reason it’s the mental image of Louis in a tub full of mud that’s getting to me right now.”

“Understandable,” Harvey says, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “I haven’t been faring much better. I did notice that you didn’t eat any of the snacks this time, though. Wanna go and grab some lunch before we get to work? You must be starving.”

Mike rolls his eyes, but the words have their desired effect, because he’s smiling. “Listen, I’m not actually a toddler that needs to eat every two hours, alright? If that’s what toddlers do. I don’t actually know anything about children, but my point is, you’re making way too much fun of my appetite when it’s perfectly normal for a man of my age.”

“Is it?” Harvey asks, doubtful, and Mike huffs and elbows him.

“Anyway, I _am_ hungry. Let’s go get lunch, and don’t even think about giving me shit for it or I’ll steal your food.”

“Like you don’t do that anyway,” Harvey says, earning himself another glare that only lifts his mood further. He suggests a burger chain that has a branch nearby, not because he particularly cares for their food (he doesn’t), but because he knows that Mike does. It’s worth the smile he gives him in response, and it amuses Harvey to no end when, a few minutes later, they are standing in line and Mike is studying the menu with the utmost concentration. It’s even funnier when he realizes that Mike must have had the entire thing memorized for years now.

“Better not go overboard,” Harvey tells him as they wait. “We got some work to do after this. Body work, to be precise. You’ll need to be able to stand up straight for that.”

“Are you kidding? I mean, what do you think I’m about to do, order the whole menu and a customized shake for dessert?”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. I’m just saying, keep it in mind to save yourself some regret later.”

“I never regret food,” Mike informs him. “I only regret not getting an extra side of fries when I actually want to.”

“Well, those won’t do much harm. You should get them,” Harvey adds after a glance at him. His voice is as careless as ever, but there’s a crease on his forehead that wasn’t there before, and he can make an educated guess as to what caused it. He doesn’t want the prospect of their tutoring to ruin Mike’s mood. It’s supposed to help him build confidence, not make him feel worse about himself, after all.

He doesn’t have anything overly complicated planned anyway, just some of the exercises Rachel has them do ahead of every rehearsal and sometimes in between, and the rest of the time he intends to focus on the first scene they’ve been working on, see if they can’t figure out a way for Mike to use his body to his advantage. Or at all.

He huffs and shakes his head at himself when he realizes that he actually doesn’t mind spending his spare time on all this, on the contrary.

It’s weird. Considering that what they’re doing is pretty much just unpaid extra work, he’s strangely looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/824510644259079246/) is the costume I'm picturing for Harvey as Nick, only with darker pants. For Mike as Honey I'm thinking along the lines of [this](https://blacklapel.com/thecompass/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/sweater-with-dress-shirt-crew.jpg), only with a cardigan like [this one](https://blacklapel.com/thecompass/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/sweater-with-dress-shirt-cardigan.jpg) rather than the sweater.


	4. Chapter 4

There’s no way around it anymore. Mike can no longer turn a blind eye and pretend that everything is fine.

He has a problem.

He _knows_. He knows he’s not getting it right. He knows everyone else knows it, and not just because Harvey put the focus on his ‘physical expression’ during their last tutoring session – clearly without much success. But it’s bad enough if he’s aware of it without having to hear about it too.

He knows all too well that he’s kidding himself into believing that the problem is going to resolve itself if he ignores it long enough. The peace isn’t going to last, and if he’s honest then he’s surprised it has lasted this long at all. There’s been the odd remark from Louis now and then, which he always tried to make light of with a joke, the emphasis Rachel puts on her weird little exercises until everyone is sick of them, the looks she exchanges with Jessica when they rehearse a scene sometimes, but no one has outright called him out on his absolute inability to handle his own body.

Until now.

Mike can see it coming from a mile away, a sense of impending doom building in his stomach more and more every day. He knows rehearsals are entering the next stage; they’ve worked out the basics, now it’s time to get into the specifics. His little problem most certainly being one of them. So far, it has been more or less graciously overlooked in favor of laying the groundwork first.

Not anymore, though.

They’ve moved on to act two now, and the dreaded dancing scene has taken a turn for the worse when, in addition to Mike having to dance by himself, Rachel and Jessica introduced the idea of Nick and Honey doing a little dip and kiss move afterwards, both of them agreeing that it would make for a rather nice detail.

Mike thinks so too, though it would be much nicer if someone else had to do it instead of him.

It’s not even meant to be a smooth or deeply romantic gesture. Nick is only humoring Honey to quash his bad conscience for wanting to dance with Martha, which means it’s a halfhearted reassurance at best. It can look a little clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s supposed to, even.

But the knowledge doesn’t help with the sense of imminent disaster creeping up on him the closer they get to the scene, and it doesn’t change the fact that he’s stiff as a plank in Harvey’s arms the first time they try it out. Jessica only clears her throat and asks them to do it again, and Mike wills himself to just lean into it but ends up faring even worse somehow. They continue with the scene, but he knows he isn’t off the hook yet, on the contrary.

“Alright, everyone in the House for notes,” Jessica calls out once they’re through, and his stomach sinks as the cast gathers in a circle around her, waiting to hear what she has to say.

“Mike,” she begins, and he just so resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan.

“I know,” he says before she can go on. “I know, I’m sorry, it’s- I’ll do better next time,” he promises even though he’s far from certain he’ll be able to keep his word.

She doesn’t look convinced. “This isn’t the first time I noticed you having trouble in that regard.”

He shrinks under her gaze, refusing to meet the eyes of any of his castmates, most of all Harvey’s.

“I know. It’s… I’m working on it,” he finishes lamely, knowing full well that he’s not fooling anyone.

“What’s the issue?” Rachel asks, frowning as she looks between him and Harvey. “Are you not comfortable with each other, physically?”

“No! God, no, that’s not it at all, I’m-“

“Hug,” she cuts in, and Mike groans but reaches for Harvey immediately, reacting to her random orders on reflex by now. Harvey pulls him in, closing his arms around him, and Mike relaxes into his embrace, secretly rather glad for the comfort it provides.

“See? I could stay like this all day,” he says, heat rising in his cheeks at the vibrations of Harvey’s chest when he chuckles. “I mean, in a professional way, obvi- anyway. I just, I don’t know how to do it on stage,” he admits.

Realizing that he’s still clinging to Harvey, he drops his arms and takes a step back, clearing his throat.

Jessica hums disapprovingly.

“Well, whatever the issue is, we have to figure it out, and soon.” She turns to Rachel. “Can you do some additional exercises with Mike? Maybe schedule an extra hour or two with Harvey and him until they’ve got the scene down?”

Rachel nods. “Sure, no problem. If that will help.”

The lack of conviction does nothing to reassure him. She regards him thoughtfully, tilting her head. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Mike, do you work out at all?”

“Uh… no,” he admits. “I used to ride my bike a lot for work, but I quit that job when I got the part.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

She just waves her hand, which doesn’t make him feel any better, and says, “I know what to do. You remember that I’m a yoga instructor on the side, right?”

“…Yes,” Mike confirms, already seeing where this is going and not all that happy about it, but Rachel just gives him an encouraging smile.

“I want you to come to my classes. I can guarantee you, your relationship with your body is not going to be the same afterwards.”

Mike knows that’s supposed to sound like a good thing, but to him it really doesn’t.

“Afterwards,” he echoes. “When’s that, exactly?”

She waves her hand. “Oh, you’ll probably start feeling it after the first lesson. Most people do.”

“That’s a great idea. Rachel’s classes are the best I’ve ever gone to,” Donna agrees.

“You’re there too?” Mike asks weakly.

“Of course I am.” She scoffs. “You know what, I’ll just come along with you to the beginners’ class. Been a while since I did that one, it’ll be a nice trip down memory lane. We’ll have so much fun.”

The prospect of having a workout buddy who is levels above him doesn’t exactly make the whole thing more appealing, but with everyone’s eyes on him and Rachel and Donna’s twin smiles, he doesn’t find it in him to refuse.

“Great,” he makes himself say. Clearly, it’s not convincing enough.

“It’ll help you relax, if nothing else. And I’m quite sure you’ll be getting a lot more out of it,” Rachel promises. “Just drop by and see where it goes, alright? No need to worry.”

“Right. I’m not worried,” Mike lies. “Yoga classes. Cool. I’m in, I guess.”

His lack of enthusiasm doesn’t seem to bother Jessica, who nods in satisfaction. “Very well. Do start going this week, Mike.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, elbowing Harvey next to him when he snorts. “Shut up. It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is,” he points out, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Rachel is a great instructor. She can get everyone to loosen up, even you.”

“Even me? What are you trying to- wait a minute. Don’t tell me you go there as well.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t taken a beginner’s class in years. I did an advanced workshop she organized with Donna last year.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Mike mutters.

“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, if I were you. You most likely won’t be the only one there who’s making a fool of himself.”

He grins, winking at him before he turns to grab his water bottle, and Mike just stares after him, shaking his head.

“That really makes me feel better,” he mutters.

*

“Alright, I’ve got nothing else on, so we can do this all night if you want. Before we start with what I planned, is there anything you wanna go back to from our last session? Or something else that’s come up in the meantime?”

Mike drops down on the sofa, sighing. “No, let’s just do your thing. You probably know what I need to work on better than I do.”

Harvey glances at him at his unusual lack of excitement – the ‘freakish levels of energy’ Mike shows up at his place with, according to Harvey probably caused by prolonged sugar highs, are a recurring joke between them – but whatever he sees when he looks at his deflated form, he keeps it to himself. He probably puts it down to tiredness, since they’ve been rehearsing for almost a month now and it’s affecting all of them; and Mike tries to tell himself that that’s what it is, but deep down he knows there’s more to it than that.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about their last rehearsal, his mind going back to Jessica’s words about his performance constantly, the look of silent agreement on everyone’s faces haunting him when he closes his eyes, but he does his best to pull himself together. Obsessing about his shortcomings isn’t actually going to help. These tutoring sessions, on the other hand, might.

His best apparently isn’t all that great, though.

“You’re worried,” Harvey says after they do a scene that Mike personally thought he did an alright job of, but that’s probably exactly the problem.

He lets out a sigh. “What gave me away? Was it my mediocre performance or the massive callout I got in front of everyone yesterday?”

Harvey regards him quietly, then closes his script, tossing it onto the table.

“You’re beating yourself up for not being perfect. There’s no point. Stop.”

Mike huffs. “That’s great advice, thank you so much. I’m all better now suddenly. It’s a fucking miracle.”

Harvey gives him a look that he stubbornly returns, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I know worrying about it doesn’t help, alright? I _know_ that. But it’s not like I can just stop. Just like I can’t suddenly become all loosened up and, and, aware of my body or whatever the hell needs to happen for me to get it right.”

“You know what needs to happen for that? You need to learn how to do it. That’s all. You need to practice what you’re not good at, and do it over and over until you get better.” He shrugs. “This isn’t a failure unless you let it be one. I mean, is this really all you got? Have you given up already?”

Mike’s shoulders slump. “Of course not.”

“Then it’s not a failure. It only becomes one once you stop trying. And I’m not letting you do that.”

“That much is obvious,” he mutters. He glances up to meet Harvey’s eyes, then sighs. “I appreciate it, though. Really. Don’t go thinking that I don’t. It’s just not exactly great to be stuck in the middle of that trying-over-and-over phase.”

“Of course not. But it’s not gonna make it any easier if you let yourself be discouraged.”

“And how do I not let myself be discouraged?” Mike asks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Harvey always seems to have some big motivational speech up his sleeve, but these things are easier said than done. He doubts he can talk him through this one.

“You change the way you think about it. Don’t look at it as an obstacle that’s barring the way. Think of it as an opportunity to get ahead and come out stronger.”

“Aha.”

Harvey lifts his shoulders. “There’s something keeping you from getting where you wanna be. You can let it stop you, or you can do what it takes to destroy whatever’s in your way. It’s a matter of perspective, Mike. How you choose to look at it determines how you handle it. It’s all about your mindset.”

Of course it is. A sudden image of Harvey sitting on a board of nails and combating the pain through sheer willpower flashes before his eyes, and Mike wouldn’t be surprised to find out he can actually do stuff like that.

It sounds so simple when he puts it like this. It’s anything but, though.

“It’s hard,” Mike says, hating how much it makes him sound like a petulant child, but it _is_.

Harvey doesn’t scold him for pouting, and Mike appreciates that he lets him have this.

“You think I don’t know that?” is all he says.

“Do you?” Mike asks, doubtful. “Because when you say things like that it just sounds like you came out of the womb with a degree in philosophy and a license for motivational speaking, having it all figured out.”

“Believe me,” Harvey assures him. “I do know.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “You know what makes it easier though?”

Mike tilts his chin up in silent question, and Harvey says, “Not being in it on your own.”

He holds his gaze, and then suggests, his voice gentler, “Let’s do the scene again. And do it like you mean it this time. Don’t waste either of our time.”

Mike lets out a deep breath, but nods, sitting up straight. “Alright. From the top?”

“From the top,” Harvey agrees, and Mike does it like he means it now, and it’s not perfect, but it’s not a catastrophe either. He chooses to focus on that.

They do the scene a couple more times, trying out different approaches, and to Harvey’s credit, he manages to distract him from his gloomy thoughts so thoroughly that he’s in much better spirits by the time they get started on the next one.

He didn’t think he was going to have much fun today, but once again realizes how easy it is to get there when he’s doing this with Harvey. They move on to another scene soon, and do a couple of Rachel’s exercises to change things up a bit, and Mike tries his best to see the benefit rather than think of them as a punishment for his shortcomings, and he may not get to that point entirely, but it’s a start.

Surprisingly, it’s Harvey who eventually calls for a stop.

“You know what?” he says, putting his script aside. “I think that’s enough work for one day. There’s no point in overexerting ourselves.”

“Right,” Mike agrees, rather glad to be out of the woods for now. “No point in that.”

This is probably where he should pick up his bag and leave Harvey to it, but he bites his lip, finding himself unwilling to take off. He doesn’t want to go home yet, though he’s reluctant to impose. But if Harvey wanted him to go, he’d tell him, right? It’s not like he’s ever had a problem with speaking his mind.

The matter is taken out of his hands when Harvey gets up to retrieve a bottle of whisky and asks, “Drink?”

The corner of Mike’s mouth lifts. “Sure.”

Harvey pours two glasses, handing him one before he disappears into the kitchen, returning with a stack of menus.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry, which probably means you’re starving already. Pick a place, we’re ordering in.”

Mike grins, taking the pamphlets. “I’m not saying no to that. Any preferences?”

“We had Thai last time, so anything else will do. Just don’t try to feed me your cheese crust pizza again.”

Mike scoffs. “Whatever. But let’s do get Italian, actually. I’m in the mood for pasta.”

“Giovanni’s, then. They have the best pasta in a ten-mile radius. Their lasagna is a revelation.”

“Lasagna it is,” Mike decides, skimming the menu before he settles on spinach and salmon and tells Harvey what he wants.

He places their order, then asks, “Wanna watch something while we wait? It’s still early, we have time for a movie or two.”

“Sounds good,” Mike says, a bit of a lie considering that he thinks it’s fucking amazing, but there’s no need to go overboard with displaying his excitement.

He narrows his eyes when a thought crosses his mind, then casually asks, “You got any DVDs?”

“Sure. Take a look if you want, they’re in the cupboard next to the TV.”

Mike jumps up, not needing to be told twice. He doesn’t have to search long until he hits paydirt and exclaims, “I knew it! The entire Star Trek original series, plus several of the following ones?” He shakes his head with a grin. “You’re a full-blown Trekkie.”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“You’re acting like you just uncovered my darkest secret. First of all, I’m not ashamed of my enjoyment of the franchise because it’s amazing, and secondly, I did wear a Star Trek shirt to rehearsals several times now. This isn’t exactly news.”

“Two different ones, actually, and that doesn’t make it any less delightful, believe me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, right. I’m the ridiculous one between the two of us.”

Harvey doesn’t grace that with another comment. “Well?” he asks instead. “Found anything that appeals to you in there?”

“Oh, we’re watching Star Trek, alright. I wanna see you lose your mind over Captain Kirk like the nerdy little fanboy you are.”

The glare Harvey sends him only makes him laugh, but he retrieves the DVDs in question without putting up a fight, and Mike drops on the sofa, folding his legs under him with a grin.

“Since you insist on being a child about this, I’m reserving the right to choose what episodes we’re watching.”

“Of course. Because Star Trek is a serious matter and needs to be handled very maturely,” Mike says, gasping when the pillow Harvey aims at his head just so misses its target.

“Actually, you know what?” He stretches to reach his phone on the table. “It’s so serious that I’m gonna post a story about it on Instagram.”

“Do you even know how to do that?”

“Of course,” Mike scoffs. “What do you take me for, a baby boomer? It’s not exactly rocket science. Also, Donna showed me.”

Harvey snorts. While Mike takes a picture of the Star Trek DVD next to his script and adds a little gif that says _working hard or hardly working?_ , he asks, “Got any followers yet?”

“A few. I just need to give it some time and be active regularly to keep them coming. Or so Donna and Jeff tell me.”

Harvey sits down next to him, leaning in to peek at his phone. “What have you posted so far?”

“Just this one picture,” Mike says and goes to his profile to show him. “From the costume fitting. And don’t worry, there’s no sensitive information about our actual costumes in it. I’ve been told in very clear terms that I’m to make sure I don’t leak anything to the public.”

“ _I’m_ in it,” Harvey realizes, lifting an eyebrow. Mike posted one of the few that has Harvey actually playing along and striking a pose. He chose it on a whim, because it made him smile every time he looked at it, and because his Grammy said he had a certain glow about him when he showed it to her.

“Yeah. I assumed you wouldn’t have an issue with your face being on the internet, seeing as you’re a famous actor and have an Instagram account of your own. Even though you barely use it. You follow me, by the way, did you know that?”

“I did not. I don’t really use the app myself. Donna takes care of it.”

“Of course she does. I bet _you_ wouldn’t know how to post a story on there.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“What are you gonna do, sue me?”

“I could, you know. There’s such a thing as a right to one’s own picture.”

Mike huffs. “Yeah, you could, but I know you wouldn’t. You like me too much for that.”

Harvey gives him a dry look, but Mike grins when he fails to respond.

“Quiet now,” he instructs instead as the episode starts playing, and Mike settles in, alternating between watching the proceedings on screen and watching Harvey’s reactions to them.

He’d never admit that’s what’s behind his glee about Harvey’s love for Star Trek, but he’s fascinated by this new side of him he’s discovering as they watch a few episodes and eat, arguing about the quality for the sake of it more than anything else.

They see a lot of sides of each other pretty much every day – that just comes with the territory – but it’s never like this. It’s never real. There is always some truth in acting, of course, but there’s a mask too, a veil that hides or at least distorts what’s really behind the performance they’re putting on.

There are no masks now, no parts that Harvey is playing. This is just him. And Mike finds himself rather desperate to see more of him, the desire never ceasing no matter how much he feeds it.

It’s a good thing then that Harvey is evidently neither inclined to leave, nor to send him away. And as long as he’s not unwanted here, Mike sure as hell isn’t going anywhere.

*

“I’m… scared.”

Donna snorts, and Mike takes his eyes off the gym in front of them when she pats his back reassuringly.

“No need for that. Rachel will only push you to your breaking point, but never beyond.”

He stares at her. “That’s not helping. You know that’s not helping, right? How are literally all of you so unhelpful?”

She has the audacity to laugh, and Mike sighs when she holds the door open, clutching the strap of his bag as he reluctantly heads inside.

A short flight of stairs leads them into an open space where a bunch of people are using the machines, some fast-paced song playing just a little too loudly in the background. Thankfully, Donna leads him into an adjoining hall right away, stopping at an open door that reveals a spacious room with several mats on the floor already.

“Can we go to the back, please?” Mike whispers when she heads inside, hurrying after her.

She snorts. “Fine. Don’t think it will get you out of doing it properly, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mutters.

As they set up their mats, Mike glances around the room. There aren’t as many others as he expected, which is good and bad news. Good because he’ll make a fool of himself in front of less people, bad because Rachel will have more time to focus on him and his no doubt terrible execution of the poses.

He barely has time to get lost in his building anxiety before Rachel comes in, her eyes finding him right away despite his strategically hidden position. He represses a sigh and waves back at her, and she gives him a smile before she calls out a greeting to everyone in the room, waiting until the chatter has died down.

“Welcome back to our beginner’s class,” she says, smiling at a few faces she seems to be familiar with. “For those of you who are joining us for the first time today, my name is Rachel. I’m happy to help you with any poses you may have trouble with and answer all your questions, so don’t hesitate to ask! On that note, it’s really important that you only do the poses to a point that still feels good for you. Everyone’s flexibility is different. Yoga is all about listening to your body, so let’s get started with that right away, alright? Great!” She claps her hands together. “Let’s get right into it. We’ll begin sitting cross-legged on our mats.”

This at least he can do, Mike thinks to himself, trying his best to follow her instructions.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that easy for long. To her credit, Rachel really does give great explanations, walking around the room frequently to check and correct everyone’s poses (Mike doesn’t want to think about how much time she spends at the back of the room with him), but even that doesn’t change the fact that he is stiff as a poker. The semi-regular biking clearly hasn’t done anything for his flexibility or balance, and he lets out a frustrated breath when Rachel shows them yet another pose that he can’t for the life of him get right.

The palm press is about the only part he’s managing of the squat pose, and it’s almost humiliating to see how low everyone else can go while he struggles to even hold his hips and knees at approximately the same height without his thighs shaking from the effort.

“I thought this was a beginner’s class,” he groans when Rachel passes him, stopping to steady his back.

“It is. Don’t worry, you’re holding up great.”

He swallows down the response on the tip of his tongue because it’s not her fault that he’s so bad at this, but glares at her back when she moves to the front of the room again all the same.

“I feel like an idiot,” he whispers to Donna, who’s doing an exact mirror image of the pose Rachel just demonstrated and somehow manages to look good while doing it. “I look ridiculous.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Donna states calmly, her eyes closed. “You’re worrying too much about how you look while doing something, instead of just seeing how it feels.”

He huffs, but when Rachel shows them the next pose he doesn’t waste as much time trying to perfect it before he accepts that this is just where he’s at and closes his eyes, breathing in sync with the rhythm Rachel dictates.

He’s still pretty sure he’s not getting any of the poses right, no matter how often Rachel says he’s doing well, but he tries his best not to worry about it and instead follows Donna’s advice, listening to how they make him feel. It’s less frustrating, if nothing else.

It seems like much more than forty minutes when Rachel finally calls for the end meditation, which is Mike’s favorite part of the whole class because he gets to lie on his mat and just breathe without having to do anything painful or humiliating.

Donna and he hang back when the room empties afterwards, and once everyone has left, they join Rachel in the front.

She smiles at Mike. “Well? How did you like it?”

“No offense, but I think I have a torn ligament or two.”

She chuckles, waving her hand. “The first session never goes over smoothly. You’ll do better next time, now that you’re familiar with the poses.”

“Right. Next time.”

“I’ll make sure he shows up, don’t worry,” Donna promises, smiling at the glare Mike sends her way.

“Do you guys have anywhere to be?” Rachel asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some lunch.”

“Lunch sounds awesome,” Mike agrees immediately.

“I’m in,” Donna says, nodding.

“Great. There’s this lovely little Greek place two blocks from here if you’re in the mood for that?”

“I’m up for anything as long as it’s edible,” Mike tells her, following when she leads the way.

They’re lucky to get a table, with how small the place is, but Mike finds it rather charming. Besides, he doesn’t mind getting cozy with Donna and Rachel, who thankfully refrain from making too many jokes at his expense after their class.

Rachel didn’t promise too much, Mike finds when the food arrives and he tries his Moussaka.

“You can rest assured that any place Rachel recommends is amazing,” Donna informs him when he says as much. “She’s a real foodie.”

“I just like to eat,” Rachel remarks, shrugging. “But if you’re ever looking for a nice restaurant to take your girlfriend to, I’ve got your back. Or boyfriend,” she adds, smiling when his eyes snap up.

“Yeah, no, I don’t have either of those right now,” he says after a beat, looking between them at the admission, but neither of them seems particularly fazed, and he lets out a deep breath, relieved despite himself.

Apart from his grandmother, he’s never really come out to anyone. There was that entire situation with Trevor, of course, but that always remained faithfully unspoken right up until the moment it was over for good. It’s not that Mike tried to hide his preferences, he just never really had a big circle of friends or relatives he would have had to come out to, and so it never became relevant. _He_ certainly doesn’t care, but he knows that other people do, so this is… nice. It’s nice to have it addressed for once. To have people he isn’t just able to talk to about it, but wants to, exactly like this, like it’s a part of him like any other.

He didn’t realize he was missing that until now.

“But if I ever find the time to go on a date with anyone,” he adds, “I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer.”

“Oh, you’ll make time for it once the fangirls and fanboys start lining up,” Donna tells him, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Right,” Mike says slowly, not entirely convinced that’s going to happen, but it’s flattering that she thinks it will. “How’s your spinach pie, by the way?”

“To die for. Wanna try?”

“Sure,” he agrees, stealing a bite from her plate. “Oh, god. Amazing.” He takes another bite and offers Donna his plate in return, then remarks, “I think we should try one of your restaurants after every class. That would definitely motivate me more.”

Rachel waves her hand. “Give it a few days and you’ll want to come with or without lunch afterwards, I promise.”

Mike sighs. “You have a lot more faith in me than I do.”

Rachel smiles. “That’s okay. You’ll see I was right soon enough.” She takes a bite of her salad, then asks, “You know what your problem is?”

“Please, do tell me.”

“You’re too focused on the mechanics of the poses. Next time, try to pay more attention to what I’m saying. Your breathing and your thoughts are just as important as the pose, if not more. Make sure to be present and calm, and maybe a little kinder towards yourself, and it’ll figure itself out.”

“I’ll try,” Mike sighs. “You’re right. I wasn’t really paying attention to what you were saying. Did it show that much?”

“A little,” Rachel says gently. Mike groans and shakes his head.

“This is embarrassing. God, Harvey will have a field day when he hears about this. Please don’t tell him how much I sucked.”

“It really wasn’t that terrible, but I promise I won’t tell him,” Donna says. “Much.”

“Ugh. Whatever. I’m just gonna have to live with the fact that he’s so goddamn smug for a reason, and I just can’t compete with that. He’s infuriatingly good at everything he does.”

“Oh yeah, he is. It’s the worst. But I’ll tell you a secret. He wasn’t always.”

Mike eyes Donna. “How long have you actually known him?”

“Since he graduated Juilliard and landed his first job. He did not do any yoga back then, and between you and me, he was in the beginner’s class for a while if you get what I’m saying.”

“Really.”

“Yes. And that’s not the only thing he had to work for. I know you have a little hero worshipping thing going on, but the illusion will fade over time, trust me.”

“I don’t have a hero worshipping thing,” Mike mutters. He clears his throat. “So you’re saying that Harvey _isn’t_ actually a robot programmed to appear human.”

“Exactly. Give it a few more weeks and you’ll see,” she adds with a wink.

“Hm. I find that hard to believe, but I’m still choosing to take your word for it because it makes me feel better about myself.”

It’s only partially true; he knows all too well that there’s a very human side to Harvey, even if he likes to pretend there isn’t. But he also seems… too good to be true sometimes. It’s a little frustrating when Mike watches him do something he struggles with without even batting an eye, but it’s also deeply fascinating to be around him and see all the things he can do so well up close.

He doesn’t say any of that out loud, but at the look Donna gives him, he strongly suspects that she knows anyway. He may be a good actor on stage, but in real life? Hopelessly transparent, and he knows it.

“Listen, he likes to be a dick about it, but this is a great opportunity for you to learn from one of the best you’ll ever get to work with. Don’t think of it as a reminder of where you aren’t yet, take it as one of where you can be if you stick with it.”

“You’re right.” He smiles. “Thanks, Donna. I do have a lot to learn from him. From the whole cast, actually. I mean, Louis is pretty particular, but you’ve seen him on stage. He’s a fucking whirlwind.”

“He’s quite something,” Rachel agrees. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re getting to work with him on your first job, though. Not only is he exceptionally talented, but he’s also good training for any difficult actors you may have to deal with after this. From the stories I’ve heard… he’ll prepare you for anything.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mike says, though his mind is stuck on another detail.

Like Donna, she seems to firmly believe that there is going to be another job for Mike after this one. That this isn’t a onetime fluke allowing him a taste of his dream, but that he’s actually getting to live it. That this isn’t a limited opportunity, but rather the beginning of the rest of his life.

There is no reason why they should be wrong in their assumption, but Mike still has trouble believing it. He spent so much time beating himself up about what happened after he got kicked out of school that he just can’t let himself believe it, not even now that he’s going to be on goddamn Broadway.

But there are Rachel and Donna, not even questioning that this play is going to be a success for him. There is Jessica, who’s never once implied that she regretted her choice even when he isn’t getting something right. There are Sheila and Louis, who no doubt questioned his abilities when they first met him and now treat him just like they treat each other. And most importantly, there is Harvey, who believed in him before anyone else did, when he himself couldn’t, who gave him the chance to go down this road in the first place. And with all these people believing in him, believing that he’s going to succeed, how could he not at least consider it?

They know his story, all of them. And yet neither of them took it as a sign that he’s bound to fail again. They don’t define him by his past mistakes. Maybe it’s time he stopped doing that too.

Mike swallows, his voice rough as he looks between Donna and Rachel.

“You know what? I’m glad we came here. And not just because the food is amazing. I’m… having a really good time with this play, like, an _amazing_ time, and not only because I get to do what I love. I also get to work and spend time with awesome people like you, and I haven’t been around a lot of those lately, so… this is really nice.”

Because yes, there’s no reason to believe that this won’t last, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t take the chance to express how much he appreciates it while he can.

Rachel smiles and reaches for his hand.

“Oh, Mike, you’re so sweet. I’m really glad Jessica cast you, you know. Not just because you deserve it, but because it’s really fun to come into work and have you there.”

Donna nods beside her. “She’s right. We love working with you too. All of us.”

When Mike glances at her, she elaborates, “Like I said, I’ve worked with Harvey for a while, and I can’t remember the last time I saw him like this.”

“Like what?”

Donna lifts her shoulders. “Usually, he’s really focused on doing his job right. And he still is, but he’s also doing… more, this time. It means he likes working with you. He likes _you_ , or he wouldn’t have done any of the things he’s been doing since you met.”

Mike blinks at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Right, well. If you say so.”

She gives him a knowing smile, then says, “You were right, we _should_ do this more often. Oh, and we should take a selfie before we go. You can post it on your Instagram.”

“Good idea! Let’s do it right now,” Rachel agrees, and when she holds up her phone once they’ve arranged themselves, the huge smile on Mike’s face isn’t at all exaggerated.

Rachel sends him the picture, and he goes straight to his Instagram, not having to think long to come up with a caption.

_New friends, new restaurants, new experiences #postfirstyogaclass #lunchdates #bestreward_

“Done,” he announces, smiling at the picture when it shows up on his feed. His mind wanders back to Harvey and what Donna just said, and on impulse he opens their chat and sends him the picture as well, adding, _Survived my first yoga class AND treated myself to some great food. All in all a successful day_.

He puts his phone away for the remainder of their lunch, but once they part ways, he checks it and promptly finds an answer.

_Looks fun. And you’re smiling, so it can’t have been too bad. Glad to hear the physical activity didn’t cause any lasting damage._

_Oh, I’m not sure about that yet_ , Mike texts back. _I’ll let you know how I’m doing tomorrow morning, provided that I make it through the night_

_Are we being a tad dramatic, Juliet?_

_I’m an actor now. What did you expect?_

_Right. Plus, you’re Mike Ross. The drama was inevitable._

_Wow, rude?_

_;)_

Mike scoffs at the message. While he unlocks his door, his phone buzzes again with another text. It’s a picture of the script and three empty cups of coffee stacked next to it. Mike recognizes the label from the place Harvey took him to after he got the part.

_You’re not the only one who had a productive day, by the way._

_Ohh, getting a head start on the next act?_

_I like to be prepared._

_Because otherwise you’d suck? :P_

_Biting the hand that feeds you?_

_I only answer to Jessica now, I’ll have you know. And Donna. And Rachel. And Louis because he’s scary_

_He is scary._

Mike grabs himself a soda from the fridge, then drops on his sofa with a sigh and turns on the TV. He selects the next episode of the show he’s been watching and snaps a picture of his feet on the table in front of it, typing, _As you can see, I’m hard at work too. You inspired me._

_In what world does that constitute as work?_

_Uh, I’m watching people act? It’s highly educational_

_Right. You keep telling yourself that. What are you watching?_

The episode plays on in the background, but Mike’s attention is only half on it, rather occupied with the texts they are sending back and forth for most of it. Even when they’ve stopped, he keeps fondling his phone with a smile that turns out to be rather persistent.

*

“Mike!”

He turns around to find Rachel behind him, hurrying to catch up.

“Hey! I thought you’d left already.”

“I’m about to,” she says, nodding towards the exit. “Just stayed for a little chat with Jessica.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It was about you, actually.”

“Oh,” Mike says again, swallowing. “Do I want to know what she said, or…”

“Well, considering that she told me to keep doing whatever I’m doing because she thinks it just might be working, I’d say you didn’t come off too badly.”

“That’s… not terrible, actually. I’m surprised, but I’ll take it.”

Rachel smiles at him. “You did good today. Jessica thought so, and I did too. You’re improving.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re saying that.”

“You’ll get there in no time, I’m sure of it. Just keep coming to my classes and you’ll be fine.”

He huffs when she winks at him. “I’ll keep coming, but only for you and the food.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Rachel tilts her head towards the doors. “Are you leaving?”

“I was going to, but I just realized I left my bag on stage again, so…” He waves his hand. “I know you have a class in an hour. Don’t wait up.”

Rachel lifts her eyebrows. “You know exactly when I do or don’t have classes, but you can’t remember to take your bag with you.”

“I really can’t.”

“Don’t you have that photographic memory thing? How does this always happen to you?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question my entire life,” Mike mutters. “Anyway, better get going. See you tomorrow?”

She nods, and he waves her goodbye as he heads towards the stage, his mind returning to the earlier part of their conversation.

He knows he still has a lot to do before he gets to where he wants to be, but it’s encouraging to hear that his hard work is paying off. And knowing that Jessica thinks so too, or at least doesn’t think he’s still doing a completely terrible job, lifts his spirit up immensely and leaves a lingering smile on his face.

Their rehearsal ended twenty minutes ago, and while he knows that Harvey is still around – not just because they spent most of those twenty minutes chatting, but because he tends to stay in his dressing room and go over his notes whenever they aren’t leaving together – he doesn’t expect anyone else to be, especially not on stage, which is why he pushes the doors open without thinking, only to freeze on the spot because he is very much _not_ alone on stage.

He is on stage with Sheila and Louis, who have yet to notice him bursting in, not because he was particularly subtle but because they’re rather occupied doing something else.

Namely each other.

The smile slips from his face as he tries to process the sight, frozen on the spot in what he’s sure is an absolutely hysterical pose, only that he can’t even think about laughing because by god, they’re really _at it_. Doing something very graphic and very disturbing and very loud, and it’s that aspect that thankfully snaps him out of his stupor before they look up and notice him standing there like a perv.

He turns on the spot, fleeing the stage without a look back. His feet carry him to Harvey’s dressing room on their own account, and he bursts in without knocking, throwing the door shut behind him like it’ll keep out the memory of what he just saw.

Harvey is sitting at his desk with his notes, regarding him with raised eyebrows, but Mike doesn’t have the mental capacity to apologize for or even explain his sudden entrance.

“Oh my god,” he just says, sinking against the door as he stares ahead. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Oh m-“

“Mike,” Harvey cuts him off, shutting his script as he turns towards him. “What’s going on?”

Mike shakes his head mutely. “Oh my god, _Harvey_.”

“Yeah, you said that already. What the hell happened to you?”

“I’ve been traumatized,” Mike whispers, staring at the wall in horror because the images just won’t stop playing in his head. Maybe they’ll haunt him forever now.

“By what?” Harvey asks, and he swallows, dreading having to put it into words.

“I just saw Louis. And Sheila.”

Harvey frowns, and he elaborates, his voice rising hysterically, “ _Fucking_ _each other’s brains out._ ”

Harvey blinks at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Mike asks, pushing a hand into his hair as he shakes his head. “I wasn’t ready to see that, Harvey. I never _wanted_ to see that. I only went back because I left my bag on stage again, and when I opened the door they were just- attacking each other.”

“Sounds… brutal.”

“Take my word for it.”

Harvey grimaces. “Well, that’s one way to end the day.”

“I can think of five hundred other ways I would have preferred off the top of my head, believe me.” He shudders. “I’m never gonna be able to look either of them in the eye again.”

“That’s going to make your job a lot more difficult from now on. Did you find your bag, at least?”

Mike gives him an incredulous look. “You think I stayed long enough to look for it? I got the hell out of there as soon as I wasn’t paralyzed from the horrors I’d just witnessed anymore.”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow, equally sympathetic and curious. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

They both look ahead, letting that sink in.

“Louis and Sheila,” Harvey mutters, shaking his head. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Surprised, no. Shocked by the unexpectedly graphic demonstration of their… relationship? Yes. Disgusted by the animalistic scene my eyes were assaulted with? You bet.”

Harvey snorts. “This may come as a shock to you, but sex between two consenting adults is something very natural.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Ha ha. It’s not funny, Harvey. Trust me, it wasn’t just that they were doing it. You do not want to know _what_ they were doing, you really don’t.”

“Then do me a favor and never tell me.”

“I won’t, but only because I couldn’t stomach putting it into words. Oh my god,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “This is the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

“The worst?”

“The _worst_ ,” he emphasizes, shaking his head.

Harvey gets up, grabbing two cans of soda from his mini fridge before putting a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

“Come on, sit down. Let me distract you from your misery.”

“Please,” Mike mutters and trails after him to the sofa. His own dressing room doesn’t have one, which is one of the main reasons he likes to hang out in Harvey’s – that, and the fact that Harvey is there a lot of the time as well, of course. He drops on the worn cushions and puts his head on the armrest, accepting the soda gratefully before heaving his legs into Harvey’s lap.

“Mike. You’re wearing shoes.”

“Dude, if I can live with the memory of what I just saw etched into my brain forever, you can live with my shoes on your sweatpants. Besides-“ He gives him a pointed look- “you can take them off if it bothers you.”

Harvey huffs. “I’m not about to start undressing you in this theater.”

“Hm. Your loss.”

Mike opens his can and lifts his head just enough to not choke on the big gulp he takes. Harvey does the same, resting a hand on Mike’s shin as he drinks. It’s very comfortable, and it does help distract him. He hopes he doesn’t withdraw anytime soon.

“It’s really cute that you stocked your fridge with my favorite soda, by the way.”

“There’s nothing altruistic about it. I just had to get something to keep you from drinking _my_ favorite every time you burst in here.”

“I don’t do that! Not that often,” he amends. “At least not like today. I don’t usually have a reason like that.”

He grimaces in the slight pause that follows.

“My god. They’re doing it right now.”

“Stop thinking about it.”

“How? It’s there every time I close my eyes, Harvey.”

“Keep them open, then. You can make yourself useful and help me with my notes.”

“You don’t need help with those.”

“No, but if you’re here already, we might as well go over them together.”

“Fine,” Mike sighs, lifting his legs to let Harvey get up. When he returns with his notes, he doesn’t say anything when he puts them right back.

It takes him a while to really focus on the material, but Harvey has a way of holding his attention, and soon enough he’s so immersed in the matter that everything else gets pushed to the back of his mind.

They stay there for a good half hour before Harvey calls it a day. Mike knows he purposefully made them work ahead to keep him occupied, and he hopes the smile he gives him conveys his gratitude.

“Well, that’s what I call a productive use of our time.” Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “How are we doing on the trauma front?”

“Marginally better. Which is still terrible.”

“Well, we can’t have that. I’ve got no plans for today other than hitting the gym, but that can wait until later. Wanna grab some coffee?”

“Deal.” Mike sits up. “Can we stop by the nearest bookstore on the way? There’s a Barnes & Noble three blocks from here, we could go to that one.”

“Sure we can.” Harvey pauses. “You gonna get your bag, or…”

“Ugh. Can I just leave it?”

“Don’t you need your keys?”

“I’ll sleep on the streets,” Mike mutters, but heaves himself up with a groan. “Fine, I’ll get it. If I don’t meet you outside in two minutes, _don’t_ come looking for me. We don’t both need to see that. Just run.”

“Good luck,” Harvey says dryly. Mike glares at him as he leaves the room, heading for the stage reluctantly. He opens the door slowly, peeking inside first, but thankfully there’s no one around this time. He hurries to grab his bag – he’s not going to forget it again, he’ll make sure of that – and meets Harvey outside, reading something on his phone.

“I see you made it out alive,” he remarks, putting it away when he sees him. “Good.”

“So glad you care,” Mike says, rolling his eyes. “Coffee or bookshop first?”

“Coffee, if you don’t mind. We can get it to go and then stay at the bookstore as long as you like.”

“You know me so well by now,” Mike points out, the corner of his mouth lifting as he glances at him.

“What can I say? I’m a people person.”

He snorts. “No, you’re not.”

“See? You know me well too. It’s mutual.”

“I believe they call it friendship or something,” Mike teases, grinning when he catches the small smile on his lips. “Or maybe you’re just a Mike person,” he adds, and Harvey rolls his eyes.

“Is there a specific book you want to get?” he asks.

Mike nods. “I’m visiting my Grammy tomorrow, and she’s been telling me how bored she is. There’s a book she read about in the papers a few weeks ago, she told me all about it, so I thought I’d get it for her. Maybe I’ll find something else she’d like while I’m there.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “She’s at the new place by now?”

“Yeah. It’s so much better than the old one. She likes it too, I can tell. She just loves to complain sometimes.”

“Don’t we all. I’m glad she’s doing better, though. That must be a big relief for you.”

“Yeah,” Mike admits. “It really is.”

Once they’ve gotten their coffee – Harvey insists on paying for Mike’s as a form of compensation for the traumatic incident earlier, which Mike is more than happy to accept – they make their way to the bookstore, and true to Harvey’s prediction spend the better part of an hour there.

Mike ends up getting three books for his grandmother and two for himself that he didn’t plan on buying, but Harvey recommended them, so he figures there’s no harm in adding two more to the pile of unread books he already has. He’s going to read them first anyway, to see if he agrees with his verdict or not.

Harvey buys a book too, because Mike insists it’s only fair he reads one of his favorites as well, and then they stop at another café because his stomach has started grumbling and their muffins just look too delicious to pass up on.

After force-feeding Harvey a few bites, Mike releases him to go to the gym and turns to the nearest subway station himself. Picturing Harvey sweating it out at the gym, he starts thinking that he should have taken his bike instead, to get a little exercise in as well.

He’s dutifully doing his yoga classes at least, which is incidentally the reason he’s been leaving his bike at home more often than not recently – the soreness has yet to cease, and he didn’t particularly want to spend the twenty-minute ride in pain.

Entering the overcrowded station near Times Square and getting on the equally stuffed 2 train makes him regret that decision though, and he vows to take his bike next time if it doesn’t rain.

Once he makes it home, he checks the fridge to see if he has enough food to throw together something for dinner and then curls up on the sofa, ditching the book he was reading before in favor of a new one he bought today.

He should have known that Harvey wasn’t going to recommend anything bad, but he’s still surprised when, the next time he looks up, an hour has passed. Harvey must be back home now, unless he’s one of those weird people who turn a trip to the gym into a three-hour activity. Well, only one way to find out.

Taking a picture of the book on his lap, he sends it to him and adds, _Page 174. You were right, it really is good_.

Harvey’s reply comes almost immediately. _Damn, you’re fast. Glad you’re enjoying it though._

_I’m a quick reader. Part of the memory package ;) How was the gym?_

_Not as crowded as I expected, thankfully._

_Unlike the train I took home. Which is part of the reason I decided to take my bike tomorrow, which I’m sure you’re happy to hear_

_Happy that you’re exercising? Yes. That you’re voluntarily entering New York traffic with a bike, thus putting your very life in danger? Not so much._

Mike snorts. _Aw, you care._

_I care about not having to find a new Honey, yes._

_Don’t worry, I’ll always be your Honey. The only one you’ll ever need ;)_

_Promises, promises._

Mike bites his lip, trying to keep his grin at bay and failing spectacularly, and since there’s no one around to see it, he doesn’t really care all that much.

They keep texting throughout the night, about everything and nothing in particular, and Mike wakes up the next morning with a weirdly light sensation in his chest. He rolls over and opens their chat, scrolling through the texts with a smile. Harvey hasn’t been online since the last message he sent him, which is strangely pleasing for some reason.

He puts his phone down and stretches, blinking at the ceiling with a slow exhale. It’s a quiet morning, the sun shining through his blinds promising a bright day ahead, and upon remembering that he has nothing on except spending time with his Grammy today, Mike perks up even more, swinging his legs out of bed to pad to the bathroom.

He decides to get some coffee on the way, because his grandmother is surely going to appreciate drinking something other than the watery brew they call coffee at the home. It’s better than what they had at the other place, but nothing compared to what a real coffeeshop has to offer.

He might even get it from Harvey’s place – reluctant as he was to admit it at first, it _is_ worth the money, and with the sun shining as bright as it does this morning, he doesn’t mind the detour.

Carrying the cups on his bike seems rather impractical, so he decides to go out for a ride later if the weather holds and take the subway instead, and not even the masses of people he has to deal with can dampen his spirits.

He considers sending Harvey a picture of the coffee, but resists the impulse. They only just talked last night. Not that _he_ minds talking to him so frequently, on the contrary, but he wants to make sure that it stays that way for Harvey too. He doesn’t have to give in to the urge to reach out every time he sees something that makes him think of him.

He soon finds himself distracted anyway, walking up to the nursing home and greeting the people he meets on his way to Grammy’s room.

“Did someone order a large hazelnut latte?” he asks once he’s opened the door, peeking inside. Grammy is sitting in her chair by the window, clearly enjoying the morning too. She smiles when he comes in, handing her the cup before he bends down to kiss her cheek.

“Well, I won’t say no to that. Thank you, darling. You’re early today.”

“Yeah. I have the whole day off, and I thought, why waste it?”

He sits down and takes the first sip of his coffee, sighing. She does the same, nodding in appreciation.

“This is very good,” she says.

“I know, right? I won’t tell you how much I paid for it because it’s ridiculous, but since we can afford it now, there’s no reason not to indulge sometimes. I got this place from Harvey. It’s where we went the first time we had coffee and he gave me that big speech, actually. I thought he was ridiculous to go to a coffeeshop that’s more expensive than Starbucks, but, well. It’s a hell of a lot better than Starbucks too, so.”

Grammy sips on her coffee, content to listen to his ramblings and regard him in silence. “Since you remembered to bring something for me too, I’m not going to scold you for it. You said you have the day off? Are you glad to have a break from rehearsals?”

“I mean, it’s nice to sleep in, but I can do that on weekends too, and I’m having so much fun with them that I wouldn’t actually mind coming in for another one.”

She smiles. “It’s going well, then?”

“Oh, yeah. Some might even say too well.”

At her raised eyebrow, he elaborates, “I… walked in on something yesterday that I really wish I hadn’t seen. Louis and Sheila have apparently gotten more than just friendly with each other. I’m talking X-rated stuff, Grammy. I saw body parts. In motion. It was horrifying.”

“What, right there? In the theater?”

He nods, and she raises her eyebrows, looking more impressed than anything else.

“No, don’t do that. You’re supposed to pity me, not take their side.”

“You have my utmost sympathy, believe me. I just wonder what moved them to do it in such a public place rather than in private.”

“Maybe they’re just into that.”

“Or maybe they couldn’t wait a second longer to be with each other.”

“Ew. Grammy!”

She chuckles. “Don’t act so coy, Michael. I’m just saying, it sounds like there’s a lot of passion between those two. Isn’t it nice that they found that with each other?”

Mike grimaces.

“I guess,” he admits reluctantly. “Still, I didn’t need to see that with my own two eyes. Thank god Harvey distracted me afterwards. I actually expected to have nightmares about it, but maybe this is just one of those things I repress until it comes back up in about a decade as something entirely different. Oh!”

He puts his coffee down, reaching into his bag. “Speaking of Harvey distracting me. I have something for you.”

He takes out the plastic bag he stuffed in there and hands it to her. “This should keep you from getting bored for a while.”

She peeks inside. “Oh, first the coffee and now these? You shouldn’t have.”

Mike waves his hand. “I remembered you talking about this one, and I know you go crazy when you have nothing to do, so I thought I’d better keep you occupied. Harvey helped me pick the other two, so if you don’t like them, blame it on him.”

“Did he, now,” she mutters, narrowing her eyes as she reads the blurbs. “That’s very nice of him. Both of you, actually. Thank you very much.”

Mike beams. “Don’t mention it.”

He drops his bag, then leans back in his chair with his hands curled around his coffee. “Alright, enough about me. Fill me in on all the gossip. Oh, was that handsome nurse here again?”

She eyes him over her coffee, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you asking for me or for yourself?”

Huffing, Mike shakes his head. Ever since he told her he was into men and women, she’s been taking it as a free pass to meddle in his affairs. Frequently. It’s ridiculous how gleeful she gets about it.

“What makes you so sure that he’s not straight?”

“I’m not. But I could find out.”

He throws his head back and groans. “I don’t have time to date, Grammy, so don’t even think about trying to set us up. Besides, I don’t need any more handsome men around me.”

“Don’t you,” she muses. He peeks at her, swallowing down the words on the tip of his tongue.

Because it’s not men in general he had in mind when he said that, and he’s pretty sure she knows.

It’s just one man. One man his thoughts keep wandering back to, no matter what he does.

It would be worrying in any other context, because yeah, he likes Harvey, and yes, he’s definitely attractive and clearly they get along like a house on fire. But this is just a product of the work they do, nothing more. It comes with the job. They’re working so closely together, doing intensely emotional scenes on what’s pretty much a daily basis, and on top of that they’re playing a couple too.

It’s probably only natural that the more he’s doing that, the more immersed he becomes in the part he’s playing. And the person playing alongside him, who just so happens to be Harvey. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It most likely doesn’t.

He has just convinced himself of the matter when he catches Grammy’s gaze on him, a very particular look on her face that makes him narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Out with it.”

She tuts at his language, but regards him intently, her lips pinched in concentration.

“You seem happier, that’s all. I mean… actually happy. Maybe for the first time since you came to live with me.”

Mike frowns. “That’s nonsense. I was happy with you too, Grammy.”

She waves him off.

“I know that. But you were never like this. It’s different. You seem so… content. Settled. And more like yourself, too.”

He blinks at her in surprise. It’s not that she’s wrong, but he didn’t think it was that obvious. He barely even thought about it in so many words himself, even though he noticed it too – how right it all feels, how every part of his life just seems fuller somehow since he got the part.

“I’m guessing that’s the yoga working its magic,” he teases, but she just smiles at him, and he can’t help but return it. She reaches for his hand, and his eyes drop when she covers it, giving it a firm squeeze. He tends to forget how strong she still is.

Some things never change.

“I’m very happy that you got this job, Michael. It’s clearly doing you a world of good, as are the people you met because of it.”

“Even Louis and Sheila and their weird sex thing I had to witness?”

She chuckles. “Even them, yes. Though I rather meant those nice girls you were telling me about. And most of all that Harvey of yours. I would really like to meet him sometime, you know. He sounds like quite the man.”

Oh, good god. The worst part isn’t even what she’s saying; it’s that he wants nothing more than to agree with her.

“He’s not my Harvey,” he mutters, but when he manages to raise his eyes to meet hers, the look on her face is entirely too knowing.

“We’re not talking about that,” Mike decides resolutely. “There’s not even something to talk about.”

Because there really isn’t. It’s not anything. It’s… nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing he couldn’t deal with, at any rate.

She’s giving him an indulgent smile. “No, of course not.”

“And anyway.” Mike clears his throat. “You have your own handsome guy right here, don’t you? Tell me what nurse David has been up to, come on. I’m dying to know.”

She does tell him, and he’s happy to listen, and if his thoughts drift back to their earlier conversation sometimes, he sure as hell isn’t going to mention it.


	5. Chapter 5

Harvey barely has time to look up at the knock before his door is pushed open and Mike strides into the room.

“I’m hiding,” he announces dramatically.

Of course he is. He’s always hiding, or he’s bored, or thirsty, or any of the other dozens of things that have made him burst into Harvey’s dressing room on several occasions before.

He thought it was funny at first, then endearing, and now… now he doesn’t even bat an eye anymore because it has somehow just become normal.

Which it’s not, not for anyone else. No one has ever dared to disturb him in this room. But when it comes to Mike, Harvey finds that he’s not all that concerned with enforcing the boundaries he usually sets.

“Close the door then,” he returns dryly. “Who are you hiding from?”

“Why, our two lovebirds, of course. I was heading to the closet, thinking I could try on my costume already, when I saw them slip into the room right before me. Holding hands. So I did the only sensible thing and got the hell out of there.”

“You do know they’re gonna send a search party if we don’t show up there in-“ He checks the time- “ten minutes at the latest.”

“Yeah, but that means they were already _in_ the room and made sure Louis and Sheila weren’t still leaving their DNA all over the place, so I’ll take it.”

Harvey makes a face. “Thanks for that mental image.”

Mike sinks into the cushions of his sofa with a shrug. “A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.”

“Not in this case, no.”

“Tell me about it.” He sighs, then falls silent for a beat before he asks, “Do you think they’re actually in love? Or that this is just a physical thing for them.”

“God knows what’s going on in their minds. I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“Hm. You’re right. And I’d rather not think about it too intensely.”

“That makes two of us.”

He swivels in his chair to get a better look at Mike. He’s curling up on the sofa, wincing when he moves onto his side.

“Yoga,” he explains when he notices him looking. “Still sore.”

“Rachel’s not going easy on you, huh?”

Mike snorts. “When has she ever?”

“You’ve got a point there,” Harvey concedes. “How’s that yoga class working out for you, anyway? I mean, I hear you complain about it all the time, but how is it really going?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting better. Somewhat. Which doesn’t mean much, considering how terrible I was in the beginning, but it’s really nice to see some improvement, you know? And maybe it’s just my imagination, but I feel it too. It’s different somehow.”

“I can tell. Not just because of the scenes. You’re more… present, in your body.”

Mike smiles at him. The sight is rather endearing, and that’s the second time since he barged in here that Harvey has thought of him in such terms, but, well, it’s true.

And what about it? There’s no point in pretending that he hasn’t grown fond of Mike. They are more than colleagues by far; they’re friends, good friends, and Harvey doesn’t usually get to this point with someone so quickly, but with Mike it’s just… easy. And sure, he has lots of acquaintances, but the kind that he actually hangs out with regularly rather than three or four times a year? Not so much.

He doesn’t know when exactly he started spending most of his time with Mike – he sees him more than Donna these days, who’s his agent plus his assistant, and that’s saying something – but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

He’s a good kid. And he’s true to his word, working hard to prove that he deserves the chance he’s getting here, and it satisfies Harvey to no end that he’s getting the results to show for it.

Of course, looking at Mike’s beaming smile, he can’t deny that he’s not just quite handsome in his own right, but also pretty much exactly his type too. And no, he can’t deny that he’s been… thinking about it, and yes, if they weren’t working together he probably would have made a move already, because unlike Louis he does have qualms about putting the production at risk in case things go south. But he’s got it under control.

Harvey is a professional. He can separate his work from his private life just fine, and just because Nick and Honey are married, albeit with their own issues, doesn’t mean that he can’t keep any romantic feelings out of his relationship with Mike.

It’s good, what they have. It’s the best thing he’s had in a long time, non-professionally speaking, and leaving the play aside, there’s really no need to risk that for a fling.

Because Harvey knows how this works, he’s been through it a couple of times. He’ll take another job after this, and Mike will do the same, and they’ll be in different states, maybe even countries, and neither of them will want to burden themselves with a long-distance relationship. Best enjoy what they have while they have it, and hope that their friendship will endure once they part ways afterwards.

“You know, you’re the second person to say that to me, and since you’re not related to me, I’m even more inclined to take your word for it.”

“Your grandmother?” Harvey asks, returning his attention to the conversation at hand.

Mike nods. “She was really happy about the books, by the way. Thought it was very nice of you to help me pick something.” He huffs. “You just keep earning more Brownie points with her.”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow, amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know. I’ve been telling her about you, obviously, how you got me this part-“

“You got yourself the part,” he corrects, but Mike just throws him a look, carrying on unfazed.

“And how you’ve been tutoring me and everything. I think she’s really smitten with you, and she hasn’t even met you. Though she said she’d like to.”

“She would?”

“Yeah. She thinks really highly of you because, you know, you more or less pulled me out of the gutter. And because you insisted that I stopped talking to Trevor. Not that you needed to, I was done with him anyway, but I guess in her mind that’s all your doing. But don’t worry, I won’t force you to take a trip to the nursing home. I know how busy you are. She’ll understand.”

Harvey hums. He’s heard a lot about Mike’s grandmother, good things, but he never stopped to consider that the opposite might also be true, and that she’d actually want to meet him.

It surprises him how touching the thought is.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why shouldn’t I meet her? If she wants to, I’d be happy to drop by.” He shrugs. “Sure, I’m busy, but not so busy that I couldn’t spare an hour or two sometime.”

Mike stares at him. “You really wanna do that? Hang out at a nursing home in your free time?”

“Generally speaking, no. To see your grandmother who specifically asked to meet me? Sure, why not?”

“Right,” Mike says slowly. “That’s… really sweet of you, actually.”

“I aim to please.” Harvey glances at the clock, lifting an apologetic eyebrow. “Well, as nice as it is to sit here and chat, we really gotta get going.”

“Ugh. Will you go in before me and let me know if the coast is clear?”

“Sure,” Harvey agrees, patting his shoulder. “I would’ve thought you’d be more excited about the poster shoot, you know.”

“I _was_ excited, until the prospect of walking in on another surprise show dampened my spirits,” Mike mutters, but the reminder of what’s about to happen visibly brightens his mood when he jumps up from the sofa. Harvey holds back a smile.

“Well, let’s see if we can’t do anything about that.”

Louis and Sheila are indeed still in the closet, but they are dressed and several feet apart, so Harvey waves Mike inside, deliberately not looking at him as they change into their costumes side by side.

The photographer has already set up his equipment when they enter the stage, and after a quick round of introductions he gets right down to business. Harvey appreciates the efficiency. He doesn’t exactly hate this part, but it’s not his favorite way to spend an afternoon either. If he wanted to sit still and have his picture taken, he would have pursued a different career.

Mike, on the other hand, seems ecstatic about the opportunity to try his hand at modeling, hanging on the photographer’s lips to make sure he follows his instructions as closely as possible.

The vision for the poster is simple enough; the four of them sitting in Martha and George’s living room, the couples opposite each other, captured mid-conversation. They shoot the arrangement from a few different angles, which means that Harvey doesn’t have much to do half the time – the pictures that put Sheila and Louis in focus are shot from behind him and Mike, showing only parts of their backs.

He does have to stay in position until the photographer says otherwise though, which is why his arm ends up wound around Mike’s waist or his shoulders for most of the afternoon. Mike doesn’t seem to mind having to sit still, nor does he worry about his posture like he would have before – and Harvey can see why. With only a few corrections from the photographer, he strikes the perfect pose, falling back into it with ease every time they do another shot.

Looks like that yoga class really is helping. Or maybe it’s just all of it, the hard work, the validation, the satisfaction of finally getting to do what he wants, all the countless ways in which he has grown since Harvey first met him only a few weeks ago, though it feels much longer than that. It’s doing him good, anyone can see that. He has an air of confidence around him now that he was sorely lacking when they started out, and the thought is enough to keep Harvey’s spirits up until they have all the shots they need from that perspective.

The fun part begins when they change the angle, putting Mike and him into focus. Harvey finally gets to do more than just sit around, capturing Nick’s essence in a single look that will hopefully translate well on camera. He can’t see what Mike is doing next to him, but from the photographer’s comments and the pleased look on his face, he’s guessing that it works. He’s rather curious to see what version they’ll go with in the end, though it doesn’t really matter. He can already tell it’s going to be amazing.

Mike seems to think the same thing.

“This poster is gonna look so good,” he whispers to him in between shots, a massive grin on his lips, and Harvey can’t help but return it.

“I’m sure it will,” he agrees, the smile lingering when Mike leans into the arm he still has around him.

No, this isn’t his favorite part of the job by far, but with Mike beside him, his unreasonable excitement about getting to do this lengthy shoot practically infectious, he really doesn’t mind it so much.

*

The stage of rehearsals they’re currently in, on the other hand, _is_ one of Harvey’s favorite parts.

The preparations have really taken off, and they are long past the early meetings that still had them figure out the basics. What’s happening now is the fine-tuning; taking scenes they’ve established and playing around within those boundaries, seeing how they can tweak it until it hits the spot, making sure the whole thing goes from good to extraordinary, and Harvey is having a blast with it.

He’s not the only one who’s in a great mood today though. Maybe they all feel it, that this play is progressing and improving at the speed of light, that the cast works together like a well-oiled machine, that every step is a step forward. It tends not to last that long, this phase, which is all the more reason to enjoy it to the fullest, and it’s the easiest goddamn thing in the world when everyone is giving it their absolute best.

They’re back at the dancing scene, now that Mike isn’t stiff as a plank in his arms anymore when he dips him before the kiss, and everyone has powered through Rachel’s exercises proceeding it, an undeniable energy in the air as they prepare to take it from the top.

“Alright, everyone. We’re starting with Honey asking, ‘Why don’t we dance?’, so get into position, please,” Jessica instructs before she gives the signal for them to begin.

The scene plays out smoother than ever. Martha and George bicker beautifully while Honey, oblivious to what’s happening around him, proposes they all dance until they give in and put on some music despite Nick’s protests. Nick then humors Honey with a quick dance leading up to the dip, and they’ve always stopped at that point, always skipped the kiss, arrested in motion as George abruptly cuts off the music before they break apart and Honey starts sulking, but today… today Harvey doesn’t want to.

He goes through the entire dance with Mike, twirling him before he puts an arm around his back and dips him, and as he looks at his face up close, he doesn’t even think about it, he just leans in and brings their lips together.

The lack of response is the only sign betraying his surprise before he returns the kiss, as brief and passionless as they decided it should be beforehand, and then Louis turns off the music and the scene progresses, and he could have gone on forever if Jessica hadn’t called for a stop eventually.

“Amazing,” she says, looking around the stage with satisfaction. “Harvey, Mike, the kiss worked wonderfully. Just make sure to turn your head towards the audience a little more next time. Sheila, I loved how lewd you were during the dance with Nick. Feel free to try out more in that regard. Louis, you were spot on. Great work, everyone. Meet back here in five!”

Mike turns to him as the group dissolves, his eyebrows raised. “Am I crazy or did she just say we did well?”

“She sure as hell did.” Harvey smiles, then sobers a little, stepping closer. “Hey, you alright?”

“Duh, better than. Why?”

“I should have run that by you first. I didn’t mean to spring the kiss on you, it just felt right in the moment. Sorry about that.”

“Well, it was gonna happen sooner or later anyway. And your gut was right, it did work out well, so don’t worry about it.”

Harvey returns his easy smile. “Alright, great. Just checking. You want some water too?”

Mike nods, and he retrieves their bottles and hands him his, catching his breath until Jessica calls them back to the stage.

“From the top, everyone. Mike, you’re starting.”

They do the scene again, and it’s not quite as smooth this time, mainly because Mike seems to have caught some sort of high from the praise that makes him think everything is hilarious, and it’s contagious.

He keeps messing up lines because he can’t stop bursting into giggles, and then improvises them in the middle of the scene just for the hell of it, but they’re all in a good mood and more than happy to play along, and it may not be as smooth but it’s twice as fun as it was before.

Jessica is happy to let them be silly after the results they delivered, and there’s no reason not to enjoy it, not when Harvey’s stomach is already aching from laughter and they’re somehow still going, barely hanging on to their characters but refusing to let go of them entirely.

It gets even more hilarious when Rachel calls out one of her random orders in between scenes – it’s ‘fall’, which Mike uses as an excuse to tragically faint into Harvey’s arms like he’s the protagonist of a Victorian romance novel – and he promptly starts mimicking her, calling out his own orders every now and then, only that he doesn’t wait until they’re not mid-scene anymore.

“You do know you just gave those two an excuse to touch on stage, don’t you?” Harvey murmurs into their embrace after he gave the order to hug, and Mike snorts.

“I’ll order them to stay apart next, don’t worry.”

“What kind of team-building exercise is that?”

“Trust me,” Mike says, whirling out of his embrace as if they’re dancing. “I’m a professional.”

“I don’t think anyone can argue that point anymore, honey.”

The teasing nickname slips out more than Harvey makes the conscious decision to say it; much like the kiss, it just feels right.

Mike grins. “You know what? I’ll take it.”

They get back into position to pick up where they left off. They don’t get far, because Louis stumbles over his line and dissolves into laughter like Harvey has never seen before, and when he starts over he completely muddles it on purpose until Sheila has to hold her side, trying to catch her breath. Next one up to cause a disruption is Harvey, like clockwork, tripping during his dance with Sheila and nearly pulling her down with him, and even Jessica is laughing at this point, and it’s honest to god hilarious, but they still keep going, even when Mike starts saying his lines like Darth Vader, even when Sheila does an impromptu solo dance with a suggestive look in Louis’ direction, even when none of it should be working anymore but for some reason it still does.

They completely mangle the scene, and yet they manage to get something out of it. Harvey and Mike do the dip and kiss again, and they lose their balance a little but at least they get the kiss right. Sheila takes Jessica’s advice to heart and practically humps Harvey’s leg as they dance, and Mike isn’t the only one laughing uncontrollably at the sight, but it works somehow, and that, that’s Harvey’s favorite part right there, the exhilaration coupled with productivity that makes everything flow so effortlessly, like it’s pure damn magic.

And as he glances over his shoulder at Mike, the sound of his delighted giggling drawing his attention away from the group, he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t.

*

“Harvey? You’re in early.”

Looking up, Harvey finds Louis striding towards him. “So are you,” he says, holding up his script by way of explanation. “I wanted to go over my lines again before we return to act two today.”

“As did I.”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “Care to run them together then, if we’re here already?”

Louis’ face lights up. “Do you even have to ask?”

He sits down next to him, looking for his script as he inquires, “Where did you leave Mike? I would have thought he’d be here with you. Since, you know. He always is.”

“He’s at his yoga class,” Harvey replies automatically, only looking up when he feels Louis’ eyes on him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Louis.”

“I’m just thinking. You two have gotten very close, haven’t you?”

“I mean, yeah,” Harvey says, shrugging lightly. “He’s a good kid. Fast learner, hard worker, amazing actor. And… well, you know him. He’s fun to be around.”

He doesn’t know why exactly he feels the need to defend himself, because it’s not like there’s anything going on between them that shouldn’t be, and anyway, he’s talking to _Louis_.

“I could say the same thing about you and Sheila, you know,” he adds with a pointed look.

If he hadn’t been watching so carefully, he would have missed the slight shift in his expression.

“Well, yes. She is also… fun to be around,” Louis echoes delicately, and Harvey can’t help the snort escaping him.

“I bet.” He regards him, curiosity getting the better of him. “Rather found your match there, didn’t you? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else who is so clearly from the same batch as you.”

Louis narrows his eyes, looking like he wants to say something but isn’t quite sure if he should. Harvey elbows him gently, raising an eyebrow. In all the time he’s known him, he’s never seen him lost for words before.

“Come on, Louis. You can deny it all you want, we both know there’s something going on between you two.”

Louis shakes his head resolutely. “I’m not denying it. I’m not ashamed.”

“Well, good. If you were, you probably shouldn’t be doing it.”

Louis gives him a look. “You still think I shouldn’t be doing it. You have all those rules, don’t you? No getting involved with co-stars. No attachments.”

“They’re not rules, they’re… guidelines,” Harvey amends. “It doesn’t always work like that, of course.”

“Of course not. Passion follows no rule but that which the heart dictates.”

Harvey swallows down another snort. “Right.”

Louis eyes him, his head tilted. “I know about you and Scottie, and I heard rumors about what you got up to with Ben Stevens at Juilliard. Don’t try to tell me that you never gave in to the fire.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just careful with… the feelings I develop for scene partners. They tend not to last.”

He watches Louis closely, gauging his reaction. So far he hasn’t given any indication that this thing between Sheila and him is more than purely physical, but when he sees the small smile he allows himself, there’s hardly any doubt about it.

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re there right now, does it? And that it’s really good while it lasts.”

No, Harvey supposes it doesn’t.

And while he may not agree with him on the matter, he can’t help but think that Louis’ approach to the whole thing is… admirable, actually. Because it’s clear that he knows exactly what kind of risk he’s running, that he may end up getting hurt, but that doesn’t stop him from going after what he wants.

Truthfully, Harvey doesn’t know if _he_ would have it in him to do the same. He rarely allowed himself to embrace those feelings on the odd occasion that they reared their head, after he gave it a shot once and things went down the drain fast. To keep himself safe, to avoid the heartache he thought to be inevitable.

Louis did allow himself to embrace them. And maybe it’s just all the time that passed since they were at Juilliard together, but Harvey rather thinks that’s not the only reason he seems more mellow. Less confrontative than he used to be. He’s willing to bet that Sheila has something to do with it. He’s seen them act opposite each other after all, and if they’re anything in real life like they are on stage, he can see why Louis is willing to risk everything for it.

It’s funny. He was protecting himself from heartache all this time, but maybe he dodged more than just pain.

It’s a futile train of thought, because all those potential opportunities are long gone and it’s not that he believes his life any poorer for it. But the longer he thinks about it, the more it unsettles him. He’s not usually afraid to take a chance. Not in any other area, except this one. Always this one.

He scoffs. That he’d one day have to admit there’s something Louis is more emotionally mature about than him. Who would have thought?

Remembering himself, he shakes the train of thought and, tying in with where they left off, asks, “It is, huh? That good?”

Louis purses his lips to conceal his smile before he gives in and nods. “It’s phenomenal.”

“So you two are… seeing each other?”

“Not officially. Not yet. We don’t want people thinking it’s a publicity stunt. But if it were up to me…”

“You’d make it official sooner rather than later,” Harvey finishes for him. “I see. Well, I’m happy for you, Louis. I’d say try not to scare her off, but something tells me that you couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

Louis scoffs. “Please. She’s made of tougher stuff than that.”

“Clearly.”

“You know, you should join us when we go mudding sometime. Let me take you, as a thank you for suggesting me for this part. You’ll see an entirely different side of Sheila, _and_ me. There are no walls you have to keep up in the mud, Harvey. No secrets, just the three of us as we are, at eye level.”

Harvey stares at him, doing his best to fight the images enforcing themselves on him and failing miserably. “Thanks,” he says slowly, “but I’ll have to pass. Also, please don’t tell me any more about what you two get up to in your free time. I don’t need to hear those kinds of details.”

Louis huffs. “Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“I’m okay with that,” Harvey assures him. Then he narrows his eyes. “I do have one more question. What the hell did you hear about me and Ben Stevens?”

“Good lord. Don’t tell me you thought that was a secret. Everyone knew.”

“Knew what, exactly?”

Louis just gives him a look. “The end of our second year. Rehearsals for your Shakespeare class. The costume fitting. Mila Coville’s party. Do you need me to go on?”

Harvey blinks at him. “Were you stalking me or something?”

“Like I said, everyone knew. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve always had a bit of a reputation. I mean, Ben and Scottie weren’t the only ones, were they? I can give you a list of-“

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Harvey cuts in, not quite sure whether he should be amused or creeped out, but then again that’s just how he always feels when he’s talking to Louis. He has no idea how Sheila does it.

His eyes fall on the script on Louis’ lap, still untouched.

“Hey,” he says, nodding towards it. “Enough of the idle chitchat. Let’s take it from the top.”

“Ready when you are,” Louis says, immediately down to business.

Harvey rises from his seat, rolling his shoulders as he gets into the right headspace, letting Nick take over before he turns around as if to reenter the room.

“I… guess he’s all right,” Harvey begins, and when he glances at the sofa it’s no longer Louis sitting there, it’s George. “He… really shouldn’t drink,” he mutters.

The scene builds up around them easily, until Harvey is fully immersed in it, until he thinks of nothing but the living room he’s supposed to be in and the strange game George is playing with him, and it’s a relief in more ways than one, and none he cares to examine too closely.

*

Dragging his eyes along the dirty façade of the building, Harvey wrinkles his nose. He never thought much about the fact that whenever they hang out, it’s always at his place – it _is_ more convenient, since it’s closer to the theater and they have their tutoring session there as well – but now that he knows where Mike lives, it’s no wonder he prefers to spend his time elsewhere.

The front door opens as a woman rushes outside, barely sparing him a glance, and he shakes off his stupor and slips inside before the door can fall shut. If the nameplates on the doorbell are any indication, Mike must be on the second floor, and sure enough he finds another tag there confirming that he’s in the right place.

Knocking twice, he doesn’t have to wait long before a slightly disheveled Mike opens the door and blinks at him.

“Harvey?”

“I had no idea this is where you live.”

Mike rolls his eyes at the clear disdain in his voice. “It’s not as bad inside as it is out here. It’s very spacious for a Manhattan apartment, so I won’t hear another word about it.” He tilts his head, frowning. “Sorry, were we supposed to meet?”

“Yes, we were. With your grandmother.”

“What?”

“You said she wanted to meet me. Well, here I am, all ready to go. Now all that’s missing is you.”

Mike shakes his head, blinking at him as he opens his mouth before finding his voice. “Harvey, you… really don’t have to do that.”

“Obviously I don’t. But I want to.”

The little crease on his forehead is still there. “Are you sure?”

“I already bought the chocolate, so you have no choice but to take me to the nursing home and let me deliver it.”

Mike stares at him mutely. The silence stretches until Harvey is just about to ask if he’s alright, but then he steps aside and opens the door wider.

“Come on in then. I need to take a quick shower, but I shouldn’t be longer than fifteen minutes.”

“Take your time,” Harvey says, following him inside. “Snooping around your horrifyingly shabby apartment will keep me sufficiently occupied.”

“Ha ha,” Mike says, waving towards the kitchen before he disappears into the shower. “I just made coffee, feel free to have some.”

Harvey doesn’t need to be told twice. He does take a look around as he waits, but he doesn’t touch anything, contenting himself with taking in the small details he can find that reveal more about Mike’s life.

The first thing he notices is chaos, although it’s far from unbearable. It’s charming, actually, just persistent enough to leave no doubt that this place is lived in.

The kitchen is cluttered, but not with dirty dishes like he would have expected – it just looks like there’s not enough space in the cupboards to hold everything, which, a closer look reveals, might actually be the case.

There’s books upon books upon books all over the apartment, even here in the kitchen. Harvey wouldn’t be surprised to find that he keeps some in the bathroom too. There’s a huge stack beside his nightstand, taller than the piece of furniture itself, and Harvey chuckles when he sees _The Secret History_ at the top, the bookmark indicating that he’s almost through even though Harvey only just recommended it.

What he gets stuck on are the pictures, though. There aren’t many of them, which makes the few he finds scattered around the apartment all the more interesting. There’s one of a young couple with a baby, barely visible under all the blankets covering it. He can’t make out much, but he thinks it’s fair to assume that he’s looking at Mike, a few days after he was born at most.

Another picture shows a little boy around four or five, fast asleep in a woman’s lap, her arm protectively wrapped around his shoulders. He recognizes the same lady in another picture, evidently taken a few years later, laughing at something outside of the camera’s scope. Her hair is white, her shoulders bowed a little with age. There’s an air of kindness around her that translates even through the static picture. Mike’s grandmother, probably.

The last one shows the couple from before again, several years older now, sitting at a table with their hands entwined. The woman is smiling at the camera, while the man, also smiling, is looking at her.

“My parents,” Mike says closely behind him. Harvey turns around at the sound and very deliberately does not look down when he realizes that Mike is naked from the waist up, wearing nothing but a towel around his hips that appears tauntingly loose from the quick glance he got at it. “That was their anniversary. I was nine at the time, and super stoked because they’d put me in charge of taking the pictures. I was really proud of this one.”

“It’s beautiful,” Harvey tells him, turning back around to take another look. The woman’s smile seems familiar the longer he looks at it, but it’s the man’s features that really stick out to him. “You look a lot like your father.”

Mike chuckles. Harvey more feels than hears him take a step towards him, one hand on his shoulder as he leans in to look too. His breathing is loud and steady in his ear.

“People kept telling me that, growing up. I guess I see it now, although he was more handsome than I can ever hope to be.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Harvey responds, clearing his throat when it comes out a little hoarse.

Mike hums, not saying anything more. He turns around and heads into the bedroom, presumably to get dressed, and Harvey sticks around to finish his coffee until he resurfaces.

“Alright, I’m good to go,” he announces, grabbing the keys. Harvey follows him outside, and Mike stops short once the front door shuts behind them, turning around with his eyebrows raised.

“You brought your driver?”

“Of course. I was hardly going to take the subway on a Sunday.”

“Of course,” Mike echoes dryly, shaking his head in disbelief. “God forbid you act like a normal fucking human being.”

“If it bothers you, I can just meet you there.”

“Yeah, no,” he mutters and promptly gets into the car. “Hey, Ray! Long time no see.”

The two of them chat for a few minutes before Mike leans back in his seat, watching the cars passing by them.

“That’s about all we had in common, by the way,” he says out of the blue, turning to Harvey, who blinks at him in confusion. “My dad and me, I mean. We never really… got each other, you know? Maybe we would have one day, but he died before we had the chance to find out. We fought a lot. I remember that I was always mad at him for one thing or another.”

Harvey listens in silence, not quite knowing what to say in response, but Mike seems content to just keep talking.

“I don’t know if that made losing him easier or harder to deal with. I just know that it sucked. Every once in a while I ask myself what kind of relationship we would have had now. If he’d be happy with how my life turned out. How _I_ did.” He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Well, this is the first time in years that I’m actually confident the answer would be more than a hesitant maybe.”

His gaze returns to the window, but Harvey’s eyes are fixed on him. As grave as the subject he breached is, you wouldn’t have known from the tone of his voice alone. Even now as he looks outside, there’s a lightness around him that Harvey cannot reconcile with what he just told him, this window into what it must be like inside of Mike’s mind at all times.

There’s so much joy and liveliness to him, a quality of almost stubborn optimism that is hard to put into words and yet impossible to deny. Harvey tends to forget because of it how heavy the package he’s carrying actually is.

There must be such a weight on his shoulders. How the hell does he bear it with so much ease?

Harvey purses his lips, reaching for Mike’s hand on the seat between them on instinct.

“Hey.”

Mike looks at their hands, then up at him, and he waits until their eyes meet before he says, “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be very proud of you. He’d have every reason to be.”

Mike sucks in his lip, searching his face before a genuine smile takes over him. “Thanks, Harvey.”

He returns the smile before he withdraws, feeling weirdly cold in the absence of Mike’s hand.

When Ray drops them off at the nursing home, Mike implores him not to waste his Sunday waiting for them, and Harvey nods when he glances at him, happy to send him home if it’s that important to him.

Falling a step behind when Mike approaches his grandmother’s room, he gives him the chance to announce him first.

“Good morning,” Mike says brightly after opening the door. “Are you presentable?”

He hears a scoff inside. “Please. When am I not presentable?”

“Good, ‘cause there’s someone here who wants to meet you.”

He goes in, and Harvey enters after him, his eyes falling on the woman sitting at a table with a book in her hands. Must be running in the family.

She’s surprisingly small, but her eyes are keen as she scrutinizes him, and though she’s clearly older than she was in the pictures Harvey saw, he recognizes her instantly.

“Mrs. Ross. I’m Harvey Specter,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand with his most charming smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She shakes his hand firmly, regarding him with great interest.

“It’s Edith, please. What a lovely surprise! Michael never told me you were coming, or I would have prepared something.”

“Michael didn’t know either until an hour ago,” Mike mutters, pulling out the second chair for Harvey before getting himself one from the corner of the room.

“There’s no need for that,” Harvey tells her, accepting the seat with a grateful nod in his direction. “Put a cup of coffee in front of me and I’m satisfied.”

“You might change your mind about that once you’ve tasted the brew they sell as coffee here,” Mike remarks. Edith nods solemnly.

“I’m afraid it is rather terrible. It was such a nice change when he brought me coffee the other day. He said you introduced him to that place, I believe.”

Harvey raises his eyebrows, turning to Mike with a canting smile. “Bluestone Lane? I sure did,” he says, his smile growing when Mike groans. “I was under the impression that he opposed supporting them due to their prices, though.” He pats his shoulder. “Glad to know you’re finally seeing reason.”

“Shut up,” Mike gives back, rolling his eyes with a smile when Edith gives him a scolding look. “I’m gonna go and get coffee for everyone. Grammy, be nice.”

“Really, Michael, you make it sound like I’ve gone to rack and ruin. Off you go now, I’m perfectly capable of entertaining a guest for a few minutes.”

Mike throws her a glance as he leaves, and Harvey waits until he’s out of earshot before he pulls out the box of chocolates he brought.

“I’m giving these to you while he’s gone, because I think we both know there’s no guarantee you’ll actually get to try them when Mike is in the same room.”

Edith tuts, but accepts the box. “You’re not wrong, but you shouldn’t have, Mr. Specter.”

“It’s Harvey. And don’t even mention it. Mike tells me it’s difficult to get your hands on this kind of stuff in here. It’s the least I could do.”

She hums.

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you. I _am_ going to leave them on the table when he returns, but let’s have one before he steals the best again.”

“I won’t say no to that,” he agrees.

By the time Mike comes back, carefully balancing three cups in his hands, the box is missing a few pieces already. His face lights up when he spots it, only to fall again immediately.

“Oh, chocolate! Oh man, you already took the best ones.”

“Did we?” Edith asks, winking at Harvey, who only smirks.

“Looks like it. A real shame.”

“Wow. I leave the room for five minutes and you’re already teaming up against me, huh? I see how it is.”

“Just be glad we left you any at all. We all know how you get around food.”

Mike huffs as he puts down their coffees and drops in his chair, pulling one leg underneath himself as he glares at him.

“See? This is what I have to put up with all day at work.”

“And outside of it,” Harvey adds.

“Well, all I’m seeing is a charming young man who decided to give me some of his time, as well as some lovely sweet treats. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

Mike scoffs. “He’s not that young anymore,” he mutters into his cup.

“Can’t dispute the first part, huh?”

Mike grumbles something into his coffee that he conveniently doesn’t pick up on.

Still smiling, Harvey turns back to Edith. “Mike told me about the place you lived at before. Have you found this one to your liking?”

“Well, it’s far too much like a hospital for me to really enjoy living here, but I will say that it is a lot nicer than the other one.”

“Grammy’s even found some friends here,” Mike points out as he steals a chocolate out of the box. Edith huffs.

“Friends is stretching the definition of the word a little, Michael.”

“I’m sure Gertrude would dispute the fact if I asked her. She likes me, you know.”

“Because you let her win at Scrabble last week.”

“Are you saying that’s my only redeeming quality?” Mike asks, clutching his chest in pretended shock.

“Well…” Harvey drawls, and he gasps.

“Unbelievable. Why did I ever think getting you two in the same room was a good idea?”

“It was. I’m enjoying myself.”

Edith chuckles.

“I believe I’m still getting used to living in a place like this at all,” she then says, more seriously. “It may be called a home, but it hardly feels like it.”

“I get it. It’s not the same, but I didn’t exactly grow up in a happy house. I hated people calling it my home, when all I really wanted was to get out of there.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Edith says gently. “Your parents didn’t get along?”

“No, although there’s a little more to it than that.” Harvey can feel Mike looking at him, but doesn’t check as he continues, “My father was a musician, so he was on tour a lot. We didn’t see him for weeks at a time. That was hard enough, but things didn’t exactly get better when my mother started having an affair.”

Mike’s gaze is glued to him the entire time he talks, a thoughtful look in his eyes when Harvey finally meets them.

Edith shakes her head. “That can’t have been easy.”

“Yeah. It was pretty messy for a while. It was a good thing I was old enough to go off to college at that point, which I did. Haven’t looked back since.”

It’s strange to remember it now. He hasn’t thought of that period of his life in such a long time, and Harvey takes a moment to examine the feelings coming up with it; but maybe it’s because he’s comfortable and relaxed here, or because he’s not going past the surface, but he’s strangely okay with it. More than he has been on other occasions.

Shaking the memories off, he adds, “But this is a very different situation, of course. While I’m afraid there’s not much either of us can do about your being here, you _can_ try to make it as comfortable as possible.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” She sighs. “It does feel a bit like admitting defeat, but I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.”

“I think the best thing you can do in less-than-ideal circumstances is to make them as appealing to you as possible within the given context.”

“Look at you, all philosophical and shit,” Mike remarks. “You sure you aren’t actually a life coach?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Mike. Haven’t you realized that yet?”

Edith chuckles while Mike lifts a suggestive eyebrow, which he ignores in favor of asking her, “What is it from your life before that you miss most, then?”

“Apart from not having strangers walk around the place, you mean? My coffee machine, I believe.”

“Alright, well, I’m sure that something can be done about that. What else?”

It’s interesting to hear what items she lists that he never would have thought of, but can definitely see himself missing if he had to live without them on second thought. Harvey doesn’t have to feign interest in the conversation; he’s actually enjoying it, and it flows naturally without either of them having to do much to keep it going.

Once Edith brings up her old VHS tapes they get talking about movies, then books, and finally the play when she mentions wanting to reread it before the premiere.

“So I can really appreciate the show,” she says, and Mike nods.

“I’ll make sure you can. I’ll get you the best seat in the theater and everything. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“And I can’t wait to see you in it. Both of you.”

Her eyes move to the clock on the wall, and she lifts her eyebrows.

“Oh, would you look at the time. Michael, could you go and find the nurse for me? I need to take my pills.”

“I will, unless by ‘the nurse’ you mean nurse Adonis.”

“His name is David, as you well know, and it’s hardly my fault if he’s working the early Sunday shift, is it?”

She gives him an innocent smile, and when he’s disappeared to look for him, Harvey tilts his head in curiosity. “Who’s nurse Adonis?”

“Oh, he’s just a handsome young man who works here that I thought might be his type. But I don’t think he’s interested.”

“Oh?”

She smiles. “Quite clearly not.”

Sitting up, she leans in and regards him intently. “I’m glad I got the chance to talk to you, Harvey. I wanted to thank you in person for what you did for my grandson.”

“Oh. I barely did anything, really.” Harvey shrugs. “I just gave him a chance to be seen. The rest was all him.”

“It was more than anyone else has done for him,” she points out. “And it may not have been a big deal for you, but for him it changed everything. He needed this, you can’t imagine how much. Before, he was just… drifting. It was making him sick. I worried so much about him, ever since he lost his scholarship, but when I look at him now… I don’t need to worry anymore. He’s finding his way. Every time I see him, it’s like he’s glowing a little more. This play, and you, you’re doing so much for him. I just wanted you to know that.”

Harvey swallows. The words strike a chord somehow, not only because he can tell it’s the truth, but because he’s experiencing more or less the same thing, just the other way around.

“He’s doing a lot for us too, believe me.”

That’s the truth, too. It’s not what he expected when they entered this arrangement by far, but it’s undeniable. This isn’t just him imparting his knowledge on Mike. It’s a give and take; it goes both ways. Harvey would be lying if he said he hasn’t improved as well since they started their tutoring sessions, but even more than that he’s gaining something else from the time they spend together – any time, not just when they work. It’s a sense of fulfilment he’s been chasing his whole life, usually finding it through his job, but never so easily, never so soon.

The thought that it feels the same way to Mike pleases him, to say the least.

He only becomes aware of Edith’s gaze on him when the silence stretches a little too long. Her head is tilted as she regards him, an imploring look in her eyes.

“Be careful with him, please. He’s suffered a lot of pain in his life. He’s strong enough to bear it, but I’d rather not see him get hurt again.”

Harvey frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t intend to hurt him.”

“No, I didn’t think you did. It’s just that we don’t always have a say in the matter, do we?”

Harvey blinks at her, opening his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything the door opens and Mike strides in with a man in tow.

“David is here with your pills,” he announces, discreetly rolling his eyes behind the guy’s back, and Harvey eyes him with interest as he hands over the medication and some water.

Edith is right, he _is_ handsome, but she also seems to be right about the fact that Mike couldn’t care less about him. Harvey watches him closely until he’s gone, but Mike barely spares him a glance, and he relaxes into his chair once the door shuts behind him, happily resuming the conversation where they left off before Mike stepped outside.

He doesn’t notice the time going by so fast until Edith points out how late it got, and they only chat for a few more minutes before their visit draws to a close. She’s growing tired, and Mike excuses them shortly after she starts yawning, telling her they’ve got work to take care of.

“I wasn’t aware we were working today,” Harvey teases him once they’ve said their goodbyes and head towards the exit.

Mike gives him a look. “And how do you think me telling her she should take a nap because it’s been an exciting day would have gone over?”

“Not great, probably.”

“Exactly. And anyway, you were there long enough. You don’t have to spend your entire Sunday at the nursing home with my grandmother.”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have minded. I had a good time.”

Mike eyes him from the side, looking away before Harvey can meet his gaze, but he still catches the smile on his lips.

“She did too, I think. As did I.”

“See? And you were worried about bringing me along.”

Mike huffs. “Yeah, okay, you were right once again. Big deal.” He nods to his left when they step out of the building. “The subway is this way. Unless you wanna call Ray and make him drive out here again.”

Harvey blinks up at the sky, the bright sun concealed by only a few dissipating clouds.

“It’s a nice day. Let’s walk,” he decides. Mike lifts an eyebrow in amusement, because they’ll be walking for at least an hour, assuming they’re both headed for Harvey’s apartment, but he doesn’t say anything, just follows when he leads the way.

“Your grandmother seems to have settled in rather well, all things considered.”

“Yeah, at least she doesn’t think the nurses want to poison her anymore. I’m counting that as a win. And I’ll get her that coffee machine she was talking about, maybe that’ll help too. I put it in the basement because I didn’t think she still wanted it, it’s ancient, but if it makes her happy…”

“It’s probably the nostalgia more than anything. Though I’m sure that however bad the coffee is, it’s better than the one they serve there.”

“It actually makes a pretty good cup,” Mike concedes. “It’ll take up a lot of space in that tiny room, but hey. At least she’ll have something to brighten her days.”

“And you won’t have to bring her anything from Bluestone Lane anymore,” Harvey teases.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Don’t start. I still think it’s ridiculously overpriced, and I still reserve the right to judge you for frequenting that place.”

“It’s the little things, Mike. Life’s what you make it, and I like to make it an above-average experience whenever I can.”

“I mean, I do get that.” Mike glances at him, then back at the pavement ahead. “I didn’t know, what you mentioned earlier. About your family.”

“Most people don’t,” Harvey points out. “I rarely talk about it.”

Mike makes a noncommittal sound. Harvey can tell he’s still thinking about it, probably wondering if it’s appropriate to ask more, and looking at him from the corner of his eye, he decides to take the matter out of his hands.

“My mother didn’t just cheat once,” he begins. “She did it again, and again, and I was too blind to realize that it was happening right under our noses for years.”

Mike frowns at him. “ _You_ were?” he asks, and Harvey nods.

“I caught her with another guy when I was a kid,” he explains. “Didn’t understand what was going on at the time, but years later when it happened again, I finally put two and two together.”

He grimaces at the memories, shaking his head. “I think what was worst for me wasn’t even that she betrayed my dad. It was that she made me part of her deception. I helped her hold up the lie and didn’t even know it. I despised her for that, and I couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer when I found out, so I… told my dad. That’s when things got really ugly.”

“Jesus. I can imagine.”

The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts in a humorless smile. “I have a brother. Marcus. Unlike my mother and I we _do_ have a semblance of a relationship, though it’s superficial at best. Calling each other on holidays and birthdays, that sort of thing. He always held it against me that I ‘ruined everything’, like I’m the one who cheated on our dad, and I don’t think anything’s changed about that.” 

He tilts his head. “He does come to see my plays though. Maybe that’s his idea of an olive branch, though it leaves much to be desired if it is.” He shrugs. “Or maybe he just wants to boast about having gone to see his famous brother on Broadway. Who knows.”

Mike purses his lips, regarding him from the side. “Are you angry with him? For blaming you?”

Harvey sighs. “Yes. And no. I’m tired of being angry, you know? It’s… if he asked me to start over I’d do it in a heartbeat, because it’s exhausting. I’ve done my time of being angry. I’d be happy to move on, believe me. But I can’t be the only one who puts in the work.”

“No,” Mike agrees. “I get that. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Harvey hums, putting his hands into his pockets as they walk.

It surprises him, how easily the words come. Because yes, he rarely talks about all this, but with Mike? It’s the easiest thing in the world somehow.

“What about your mother? You don’t talk to her at all?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“She never apologized?”

Harvey scoffs. “That’ll be the day. I haven’t exactly given her much of an opportunity to, granted, but she knows where I live. She has my number. If she wanted to do it, she could have.”

“Huh.” Mike looks ahead. “Well, this is a depressing story.”

Harvey snorts softly. “Don’t I know it.”

Mike elbows him, smiling when he meets his eyes. “You know, I think it’s pretty damn impressive that you did what you did. It says a lot about you and your morals.”

“If you asked my family, they’d probably tell you it says a lot about me being an asshole,” Harvey remarks dryly, but Mike’s words make him smile, warming him all over.

He gives him a contemplative look, then enquires, “You know what I always found comforting?”

Harvey tilts his chin, and he explains, “That even if you don’t have a family, or don’t talk to them in your case, you can always find another one. One that chooses you and you choose it in return, and I think that means a lot more than just being bound to someone because you happen to be related.”

He lifts his shoulders. “Sometimes the constellation of that changes, but it’s the same for blood-related families, isn’t it? People come and go. But some stay, and that’s what matters.”

He nudges his arm, smiling. “And I mean, look at you. You have Donna. You have Jessica. I… don’t wanna presume that I fall into the same category, but for what it’s worth, you have me now, and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You don’t need your biological family if they’re too stuck-up to see what they’re missing out on. Their loss.”

Harvey laughs, surprising himself with the sound. “You know what? You’re goddamn right about that.”

Mike huffs. “Alright, no need to sound so surprised.”

Their conversation turns to lighter topics after that, and by unspoken agreement they keep walking in the same direction, neither of them willing to cut the day short.

When they reach the Chinese place three blocks from Harvey’s apartment, he stops and tilts his head.

“What do you say? Grab some lunch and run a few lines if we’re here already?”

Mike grins, and if he were so inclined, Harvey would describe the warmth spreading in him as happiness.

“Oh, you know by now that I’d never say no to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Bluestone Lane](https://bluestonelane.com/) is a real chain I remembered from NYC and chose at random. Never tried their coffee, so I have no idea if it really is that good.
> 
> Also, you may have noticed the final chapter count now says 16... that's because I'm currently writing the last one and it's getting insanely long, but there's a nice cut in the middle, so I'll just split it in half ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Mike is relaxed.

He never thought he’d say this, but he just completed Rachel’s yoga routine, and while it’s still kicking his ass he can honestly say, lying on his back as he takes slow breaths, that he’s relaxed.

It feels _wonderful_.

He opens his eyes only reluctantly when Rachel tells the group to come back and sit up in their own time, and there’s a serene smile on his lips as he waits for everyone else to gather their things before he moves too.

As much as he loves his job, it’s not all fun and games. It’s a lot of work that takes up a lot of his time too, and sometimes it’s nice to just be here and focus on nothing but himself, his body, and the rhythm of his breathing.

The fact that he’s slowly but surely getting the hang of this whole yoga thing (emphasis on slowly) helps too, of course. This class has turned from torture sessions he could barely drag himself to into a small but precious timeout, a much-needed break that is only for him.

“I know that look,” Donna remarks beside him, smirking as they pack their bags. “I won’t say that I told you so, but…”

“Shut up,” Mike returns, chuckling.

“Hey,” Rachel greets them when they meet her in the front. “Mike, is that a smile on your face?”

“Jesus, you two are the worst. Yeah, I was wrong about yoga, it isn’t actually terrible, and I’m starting to enjoy myself, alright?”

Rachel grins. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear from you. Are you guys headed somewhere, or should we get some coffee?”

The Friday class takes place past lunchtime, but that never usually stops them from hanging out afterwards, which is why it surprises him when Donna announces that she can’t join them today.

“I have to drop something off at Harvey’s,” she explains. “I need his signature by tomorrow night, and he’ll want to read it before he signs. After that I have a meeting at the opposite end of town, so no can do.”

“Why don’t you just leave it in his dressing room and save yourself the journey?” Mike suggests. “The theater is closer than his apartment, and he’ll see it first thing in the morning.”

She huffs. “No way. I know how he gets about his dressing room. I’m not violating his no-entrance-policy for this.”

“He has that?” Rachel asks, amused, and Donna nods solemnly.

“He’s very particular about it being ‘his own space’ and ‘a quiet place he can retreat to’. His words.”

Mike scoffs. “What? That’s not true. He lets me come in there all the time.”

Donna waves her hand. “That’s different.”

“How is it different?” he asks, confused, but she just shrugs, like that explains everything.

“You’re Mike.”

It explains nothing, really, but before he can ask any further questions Rachel says, “Well, if you’re free we can head in that direction together and grab some coffee on the way?”

“Actually, I can’t today either. Harvey and I wanna see this movie, which I’m probably already running late for.” Mike checks the time. “Yup. Definitely running late.”

He looks back up to find both of them staring at him with their eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Nothing. _You_ can give this to him then,” Donna says and hands him an envelope. “Tell him to have it signed when I meet him tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright. Rain check on the coffee?” he asks, and after saying his goodbyes, turns to jog to the nearest subway station.

Harvey is already waiting for him of course, merely lifting an eyebrow at the sight of him.

“I know, I’m late. Don’t start. Besides, I’m not even _late_ late, just late for your standards. Also, I brought you something.”

He hands him the envelope along with Donna’s instructions, then checks his phone once they’re in line for the tickets.

“See, we even have time to get popcorn and not miss the start. Are you getting some? Please tell me you’re getting some.”

“You do know you can have popcorn without me, don’t you?”

“Technically, yeah, but that’s no fun.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Harvey says, shaking his head. “Well, you’re in luck. We can share if you want.”

They do, which he almost ends up regretting when they get into a near-fight about the proper amount of butter to put on it – almost because it’s kind of hilarious, and because he wins the dispute by simply ignoring Harvey when he tells him to stop pressing the button, buttering the popcorn up nicely.

Harvey makes a face every time he reaches into the bucket and takes a single piece of popcorn between two delicate fingers, but Mike knows it’s for show because he keeps coming back for more all throughout the movie, brushing his hand so many times that he can hardly believe it’s on accident anymore.

“That was awesome,” Mike declares when they walk out of the cinema.

“The movie? Absolutely. The popcorn, on the other hand…”

“Shut up about the popcorn or I’m gonna dump the rest of it over your head,” Mike threatens. “You’ll never get the grease stains out of that shirt. By the way, who the hell wears a shirt like this to the cinema? That’s just ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m the crazy person now?”

“Not as crazy as those people in that movie, I’ll give you that. I’m not gonna sleep for a week straight, probably.”

“It’s usually this kind of indie film that has that effect on you,” Harvey agrees.

“This one sure did.” Mike drops the bucket in the nearest bin before he turns to Harvey. “So. Dinner?”

“How can you even think about food after consuming that much butter in the past two hours?”

“Fine. Your place first, dinner later? We can run a few lines,” he adds, although they both know it’s unnecessary. As if they really needed an excuse to hang out these days.

“It’s a deal, but only if we’re going out instead of ordering in today.” Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “I’m not wearing this shirt for nothing.”

Mike huffs out a laugh. “Deal,” he agrees readily, not pointing out that he’s not wearing it for nothing either way; Mike is thoroughly appreciating the sight of him in it already.

Once they make it to his place, Harvey suggests doing some physical work, and Mike, finally getting the hang of that, is more than happy to agree and demonstrate the progress he’s making. Getting a word of praise out of Harvey might be too much to ask for some days, but luckily something else Mike has gotten rather good at is reading between the lines and understanding the looks he gives him.

There’s all the praise he needs in that.

After a rather energetic tutoring session featuring a handful of dips and almost-kisses – the actual ones seem to be reserved for the stage, he notes with a hint of disappointment – Mike drops on the sofa, leaving it to Harvey to choose where they should eat.

Of course, Harvey doesn’t decide on a normal place like a normal person; he decides that they’ll be having an upscale dining experience tonight, which Mike is pretty sure is revenge for the popcorn incident earlier.

Not that he’s complaining. As far as he’s concerned, that just means he’s getting two opportunities to have great food in one day. What’s not to love?

Once they’ve placed their orders he leans across the table, holding up his phone, and before Harvey can protest, he has snapped a picture of the two of them.

“It’s for my Instagram account,” he explains at the look he gives him. _And for me_ , he adds in his mind, but there’s no need to say that part out loud. “People will love it.”

“Will they?” Harvey asks, doubtful.

“Duh. Let’s do another one, though. Smile this time, will you?”

He lets him take a few more pictures, actually smiling in some of them, and Mike ends up with a few good shots and one that he particularly loves. Both of them are leaning towards each other in that one, their heads almost touching, equally bright smiles on their faces with a few of the restaurant’s lights sparkling in the background.

“That’s the one,” he mutters, using the wait for their food to caption and post it.

_Popcorn for lunch, then pasta for dinner? Count me in #ithinktheycallitabalanceddiet_

“You’re ridiculous,” Harvey huffs when he shows it to him, but he eyes the picture closely before he hands his phone back.

“You’ve said that before, and yet here we are, in this fancy ass restaurant, talking about sharing a dessert…”

“I distinctly remember stating very clearly that I did not want any dessert at all, and you pressuring me into at least sharing one with you.”

“Your point?”

Harvey rolls his eyes, and Mike only laughs because he knows he doesn’t mean it, because he let him win their argument about the popcorn earlier and he does share a dessert with Mike even though he clearly doesn’t need it to be satisfied, and he goes as far as admitting that the panna cotta is really fucking good; so good, in fact, that it leaves a pleasant warm fuzziness deep in Mike’s stomach that doesn’t dissolve all night.

*

The next morning, the whole cast is gathered bright and early for their next rehearsal, and the fluttering sensation in his belly, for some reason, is still there. Mike wouldn’t mind, usually, since it is rather pleasant, giving him a spring in his step and a smile on his lips despite the early hour.

Except that it’s a little more persistent than he anticipated, and it flares up at the worst possible moments, and all of them have one thing in common. And if that keeps happening, Mike is going to get into trouble.

Because the thing is, he’s getting really good at immersing himself in his role. Like, _really_ good. He knows Honey inside out, knows all his motivations, his hopes and fears, knows what he sounds like, how he talks, what he feels.

It’s starting to cause him a few problems. Because he’s having more and more trouble separating it from what _he_ feels. More and more trouble looking at Harvey and not seeing him through Honey’s loving eyes. Feeling what he feels for Nick. Feeling… more than just a little affection.

He’s getting this all mixed up. This must be the price he’s paying for never having received professional training; he can’t separate himself from those feelings, can’t switch them off, never mind that they’re not his own, they’re all Honey’s.

That’s what it is. It must be. That’s why he can’t look at him without feeling an undeniable fluttering in his stomach anymore. Why he feels like he’s flushing all over when Harvey regards him with that warm, gentle look in his eyes that he could bask in all day.

But it’s not Harvey, is it? And he’s not looking at Mike, not really. It’s Nick, looking at Honey, and all it means is that Harvey is a damn good actor, but Mike…

Mike is starting to wish that it meant more than that.

“Hey, you alright?”

He flinches when Harvey puts his hand on the small of his back as he walks past him to get some water.

“Hm? Yeah, just thinking.”

Harvey raises an eyebrow, smiling as he pats his shoulder briefly. “Look alive, honey. I need you at your absolute best for the next scene.”

Mike nods and just so represses a groan, because _that_ isn’t helping either.

He thought it was funny at first, but now it’s anything but, not when his stomach flutters every time Harvey calls him honey, clearly in jest, but there’s always a softness underneath that Mike can’t be imagining, that’s bringing back that infuriating fuzziness in his stomach, that’s making him wish he’d say it just a little more often, and-

Yeah, no. It really isn’t helping. At all.

He’s almost glad that he has an excuse to disappear right after rehearsals – Grammy slipped and sprained her ankle yesterday, and while the doctor from the nursing home had a look at it and said everything was in order, he’d rather take her to her regular practitioner and get a second opinion.

On the downside, that just means he has a whole lot of time to think about all this, because showing up without an appointment means that they get to spend a grand total of three hours waiting to be called, and the magazines they’re providing can only occupy him for so long.

The thing is, if he’s really honest with himself, then he’s been having those kinds of feelings towards Harvey for a while now. Definitely before he became so immersed in Honey, who holds a rather different sort of love for Nick than he’s experiencing anyway – which means he can’t put it down to that entirely.

Which isn’t exactly helping. Because does this mean that the feelings he was already developing have grown into a full-blown crush? Or is this just a product of his imagination? Is it even _him_ who’s feeling it or a mix of himself and Honey, something he’s inevitably going to leave behind once this play is over, making the whole thing doomed to expire from the start?

He doesn’t know. He just knows what it feels like, and that’s definitely not that this is the infatuation of someone else. It feels… real.

Which brings him back to where he began.

This isn’t getting him anywhere. Ultimately it doesn’t make a difference if he’s crushing on Nick or Harvey or both of them anyway, does it? He’s screwed either way. The only difference is that one of those options probably means he’s screwed for a limited time only, while the other puts him in a peculiar situation for much longer.

Provided that they actually stay in touch once this is over.

He just so resists burying his face in his hands with a groan. So many things he doesn’t want to think about.

His mood is dropping more and more the longer they sit in the disturbingly quiet waiting room. It’s a good thing Grammy is beside him where she can’t catch a glimpse of his face and figure out what’s going through his head. She’s annoyingly perceptive like that.

To distract himself and hopefully pass the time a little quicker, he takes out his phone and opens Instagram. He scrolls through his feed for a while and watches a few stories – Rachel is at another one of her special restaurants apparently, and he shoots her a message asking if it’s worth a visit after yoga sometime – before he jumps to his own profile, going through the pictures he’s posted.

It’s only a handful so far, but he likes all of them, not because they’re especially great but because every single one is authentic. They show the best parts of his new life, a nice little collection of all his favorite things about it, and it’s definitely fun to look at. For him, at least.

Going through them, he notices that he’s been getting increasingly more likes since he first started this account, so it must be resonating with other people too. It hasn’t been that long since he became active, but the weeks have flown by since, and it’s baffling and entertaining at the same time to relive those memories and realize how much time he’s spent on this production already. They still have a while to go, but he already knows that it’s going to fly by.

Another thought he doesn’t want to examine too closely.

He gets stuck on the last picture, the selfie of Harvey and him he took last night, and the bright smiles he liked so much seem to taunt him now as he looks at them until he exhales in frustration and returns to the previous page. Hovering aimlessly over the screen, he eventually clicks on his followers, the number surprisingly already in the thousands, and scrolls through the list.

He recognizes some of the accounts; Broadway actors, theaters, and critics that have made a name for themselves, followed by a whole bunch of strangers that only stand out to him because of how many there are of them.

The name doesn’t register when he first reads it, but then he stops, frowns, and scrolls back up, squinting at the tiny picture. He clicks on the profile of tevans86 to be sure, and it only takes one glance to know that it’s him. Trevor.

He stares at the screen for a while, not quite knowing how to feel about that. He did tell Trevor to get lost, and he isn’t sure if this is a violation of the boundaries he set or not. Then again, it’s not like he has tried to contact him. He’s just… there.

He looks through the pictures he’s posted recently, but even though there are a lot of them, they don’t offer much information about what he’s been up to.

Not that Mike cares. He’s just curious.

Okay, maybe he does care a little. He didn’t before, not until he saw his profile and inevitably started remembering all the good memories he has of them together, and most of the time he _doesn’t_ think about him and he doesn’t miss spending time with him and it’s really okay.

It’s just not right now. And Mike thinks it’s really fucking unfair that he starts missing him now of all times, but it’s not like he has much of a say in the matter.

Taking a deep breath, he berates himself for even going there and bringing this upon himself. He hesitates, then goes back to his list of followers with a quiet sigh, deciding not to follow him back, but as long as Trevor doesn’t try to reach out, there’s no reason to block him. If _he_ can be an adult about this, Mike sure as hell isn’t going to start acting like a child.

He was always the more mature one between the two of them. He’d do well to remember that, in more than one area of his life.

*

“Have you seen it?”

Harvey turns around when he barges into his dressing room, either his lack of greeting or the fact that he clearly ran here amusing him greatly.

“I’ve seen it,” he agrees.

“It’s amazing. It looks amazing, doesn’t it? Do you like it? I love it. I can’t stop looking at it.”

“Mike,” Harvey says, crossing the room with a smile to put a hand on his arm. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing. I’m just so fucking excited. I need to look at it again.”

Mike flops down on the sofa, and Harvey turns around to finish whatever he was doing with his hair before joining him there.

“I can’t believe they chose this version,” Mike says, shaking his head as he stares at the picture, transfixed.

“Why not? It looks fantastic, and it works beautifully.”

He’s right. The poster features one of the shots that focuses on Harvey and him, Mike sitting upright with his hands in his lap, Harvey’s arm wound around his back, both of them looking at Louis and Sheila with different levels of confusion bordering on concern.

The two of them are barely on it save for parts of their backs, turned to the camera, framing the snapshot of Harvey and him. The light, aimed at them to illuminate their expression, reaches neither Louis nor Sheila, the shadows concealing everything but part of their silhouette; dark, untransparent, obscure.

It’s perfect. And yet Mike still can’t believe that this is the final version of the poster that will be put all over the internet for everyone to see.

“But that’s… me,” he says, blinking at the face that does and doesn’t look like him. “Like, almost at the center of attention.”

It’s pretty evenly divided between Harvey and him actually, but even that is mind-blowing to him – shouldn’t the camera focus on Harvey instead, or highlight him somehow?

“Yes,” is all Harvey says, evidently not sharing that opinion. “So?”

“You know what I mean. Honey has the least lines out of everyone, and I’m… me. The newbie. I know we weren’t gonna hide that, but this is…”

“A smart decision, that’s what it is,” Harvey finishes for him. “They did say we’d make use of our assets. Well, this is them, clearly realizing that you are one of our biggest assets and acting accordingly.”

Mike swallows, his heart pounding when he looks up and meets Harvey’s eyes. He’s much closer than he realized. “You, giving me a compliment?” he jokes weakly. “You must be serious then.”

“Of course I’m serious,” Harvey says, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re an outstanding actor, and we’re lucky to have you as our Honey. The audience is going to love you just as much as the rest of us do. You wouldn’t be on that poster if you didn’t deserve it. You wouldn’t be on this production, period. I know you’re finding that hard to believe, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I… thanks, Harvey,” Mike mutters, clearing his throat. “That means a lot. Especially from you.”

He purses his lips, dropping his gaze before he gets lost in that addictive intensity of Harvey’s look and ends up doing something stupid. His emotions are already running high, there’s no need to add fuel to the fire.

He looks back down at the poster instead, even the tiny version on his phone exceeding all his expectations.

“Jesus, Harvey. It looks so amazing. I can’t wait to show it to my grandmother. I can’t wait to show it to _everyone_.”

“Well, soon you can. I’m sure people are going to love it when it goes up tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Mike chokes out, causing Harvey to lift an eyebrow in amusement.

“Yes. Why wait? Tickets are going on sale soon, it’s about time people got an idea what they’re paying for.”

“You’re right,” Mike mutters, shaking his head. “This is just… a lot to process. Things are happening very fast all of a sudden.”

“They aren’t really. You’re just becoming aware of the fact that they’re happening,” Harvey points out, which doesn’t exactly change anything, but Mike takes a deep breath and wills himself to calm down. There’s nothing special going on, he tells himself, but he barely believes it, and especially not when they head out for their rehearsal and meet the rest of the team.

Everyone is in an elevated mood as they gather on stage, having received the mail revealing the poster too, and even Sheila and Louis agree that the shot is perfect, boosting Mike’s ego even more. He feels drunk on the idea that his face will be distributed all over the city, that he is what people are going to associate with this play when they talk about it from now on.

He manages to focus on the rehearsal eventually, but while he’s strangely exhausted when he falls into bed that night, it takes him a long time to actually calm down and fall asleep with the distinct sense that things will be very different when he wakes up tomorrow lingering in his head.

Things are still the same when he opens his eyes the following morning, of course, and he goes through his routine and gets ready like he always does, part of him still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It eventually does when he rides his bike to the theater and nearly crashes into a parked car in front of it, because there it is.

There _he_ is, and Harvey, and their names in big bold letters, hanging on the outside of the theater they’re going to perform in so soon for all the world to see. It looks breathtaking, and it’s so much bigger than Mike expected, drawing people’s looks as they walk by, demanding attention.

It’s real. It’s up there. This is happening, and if he didn’t realize it before, he has no choice but to acknowledge it now.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you almost crashing your bike there,” he hears Harvey’s voice behind him, but he can’t even turn around to say hi, unable to take his eyes off the poster for a single second.

“Check this out,” he says, feeling Harvey coming to a halt beside him. “It’s just… there.”

“Looks great, doesn’t it?” Harvey asks, the smile audible in his voice.

Mike can only nod.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, struggling to find his words. “This is… wow.”

“Eloquent,” Harvey remarks, but smiles when Mike throws him a look. “I agree, though. This never gets old.”

“Unlike you, you mean? I think they forgot to photoshop the lines around your eyes there.”

Harvey snorts. “I think _you’re_ forgetting who brought you to this production in the first place, lippy.”

Mike flashes him a quick grin, and then they both turn back to the poster, just looking at it.

“This is fucking amazing,” Mike whispers.

He can’t begin to put into words what it feels like to see himself up there, it’s simply indescribable, but Harvey just nods beside him, and he knows he understands.

He’s wholly unprepared for the wave of gratitude washing over him when he realizes just how glad he is to have his company, to share this moment in particular, but also in general. God knows if he’s going to get the chance to be in a play again after this, and if so with whom, but as long as he’s getting this first experience with Harvey beside him at every step of the way, he won’t complain.

He allows himself to just stay where he is and take it all in, the poster and the companionship and the fact that he gets to do these things other people spend their whole lives dreaming of, until Harvey eventually points out, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t go in now.”

“Right,” Mike says, remembering himself and that he didn’t come here just to look at the poster. “Just let me take a quick picture with it.”

He pulls out his phone and turns around so that he’s facing the camera, frowning at the angle.

“Let me,” Harvey offers, taking the phone from him before he can say as much as a word. Mike straightens, pointing at the poster with a big grin he doesn’t have to fake.

Harvey smiles too when he hands him the phone back. “It looks nice.”

“Thanks. Now come here, we have to take a selfie with it too.”

They take a few of them, one where they both grin and several in which they try to recreate their poses to their best ability.

All of them are too good to delete, but Mike gets stuck on the first photo Harvey took of him when he looks through them later. He’s positively beaming, and he chuckles as he selects it for his Instagram account, adds the high-resolution version of the poster, and posts both of them with the caption, _Soo that happened #whatismylife #livingthedream #lucky_

He doesn’t check his phone again until the rehearsal’s over, only to do a double take at the sheer amount of likes and comments underneath the post. His follower count has gone up quite a bit too since he last looked at it, and it’s a little dizzying and somewhat frightening to think that this is only the beginning.

It doesn’t fully hit him what being seen like this actually entails until the next morning, when he stops at a café near the theater to grab a muffin and bumps into another customer waiting in line.

“Oops, sorry,” she says, and he waves his hand with a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my own fault. Had my eyes on the food.”

She doesn’t return his smile, frowning instead, and just when Mike is beginning to wonder why the hell she’s still staring at him, her eyes widen.

“Wait a second. Oh my god, you’re that Mike Ross guy, aren’t you?”

“I…” Mike begins, only to trail off, fighting the naïve instinct to ask her how she knows him. It’s obvious how she does. He just can’t quite wrap his head around it.

“I am,” he finishes weakly, offering a smile when her face lights up.

“Wow! How crazy is this? I mean, it’s not that crazy, we _are_ near Times Square and all the theaters, but still, you never expect it to actually happen, do you? Especially not when you’re just dropping in somewhere to get coffee!”

“Uh,” Mike says.

The woman puts her hand over her mouth, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, god, I shouldn’t make such a fuss. I’m just so excited about seeing you on stage in a few weeks! This must happen to you all the time, you’re probably sick of it.”

“Not really,” he tells her, scratching his neck. “This is… I mean, I don’t mind. It’s nice, actually, knowing that people are so excited about the play.”

“Oh, are you kidding? Jessica Pearson is only my second favorite director of all time. And Sheila Sazs? A legend. And Harvey Specter! I’ve never seen Louis Litt before, but I can’t wait to. And you, of course. Now that I’ve met you in real life, I’m even more excited!”

“Sounds like you know your way around Broadway,” Mike notes, and she beams and nods.

“It’s an expensive hobby, but so worth it. Well, I guess you’d know!” She tilts her head, biting her lip in hesitation before she asks, “Would you take a picture with me? Only if you don’t mind! I promise I’ll leave you alone afterwards.”

Mike blinks at her. “I’m… really? I mean, sure! Totally, yeah.”

She takes out her phone, and he bends down a little to fit in the frame with her, and then she thanks him profusely and he tells her it’s really no big deal, all the while still trying to process that this is actually happening.

“Oh, my turn!” she realizes as she puts her phone away, turning back to him. “Thanks again. I’ll see you on stage soon! Have a lovely day!”

“Yeah, you too,” Mike returns, staring at the back of her head as she orders and then disappears from the café with a final wave, not quite taking anything in.

He orders his muffin on autopilot, but is too occupied with his thoughts to actually eat it, which is really saying something about his state of mind.

He did know these things were going to happen from now on. He just didn’t expect it to start so soon. That woman didn’t even know him and still wanted a picture, didn’t have a shred of doubt that he was going to deliver, that this play was going to live up to the hype they’ve been generating over the past few weeks.

How weird is that?

The longer he thinks about it, the less he can wrap his head around it. Even as the rehearsal starts and they begin with Rachel’s exercises, his mind is only half on what they’re doing. Thanks to his encounter at the café, he arrived so late that he barely got to talk to anyone, but he can feel Harvey scrutinizing him at his no doubt out-of-character silence in between scenes.

Well, he’d better get used to that now, shouldn’t he? People are going to keep looking at him, and they’ll do more than scrutinize him. They’ll judge his every move, every shift of his expression, every step he takes on that stage and probably a lot of those off it, too. Yes, stage actors tend to get recognized less than others, but the feeling of being exposed, of someone watching him still encompasses Mike until his throat seems to close up with it.

All eyes on you, Harvey told him at the start of this, long before he even thought about posters and getting stopped in the street, but he’s only realizing now what that actually means. How big this play is going to be. How much of an audience they will have. All those people on his Instagram, liking his posts, following him, swooning in the comments about how they can’t wait to get tickets for this with all their expectations already firmly in place, and Mike has no guarantee that he’ll actually be able to deliver what they so clearly want from him. He can’t promise them anything.

He makes it through the rehearsal, but he knows it’s not his best work by a long shot, and judging by the look Harvey is giving him he notices too. He’s not in the mood for questions though, heading straight for his dressing room once Jessica calls it a day in hopes of avoiding him and clearing his head a little.

His throat is still closed up, making it hard to breathe, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s not getting any better, on the contrary. He’s almost positive that there’s not _really_ anything preventing him from taking air into his lungs, but it sure as hell feels like it, and once he becomes aware of it, it’s making it a little hard not to panic.

The solitude of his dressing room isn’t as much of a solace as he hoped, and it doesn’t last long anyway.

“Yes,” Mike gasps at the sharp knock, but the door is already opening to reveal a worried Harvey, giving him an all too attentive look.

“Hey, you alright? You were awfully quick to leave just now, and… Mike?”

He swallows, giving him a pleading look.

“I’m…” he begins, wishing he knew how to continue that sentence to make him understand, but he can’t. He doesn’t even understand it himself.

Harvey frowns, coming in and closing the door behind him. “What’s going on?”

“Can’t breathe,” Mike gets out, bending down as he supports himself on his thighs. He can see Harvey’s shoes coming closer, and he makes himself straighten so he can at least look at him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Mike shakes his head, waving his hand like it’s going to tell him anything.

“Don’t know.”

Harvey regards him intently before a look of understanding comes over him. Mike would really like him to share whatever realization he just came to because he doesn’t have a damn clue what’s going on, but Harvey seemingly has other plans, and when he takes charge he’s in no position to argue.

“Alright, sit down. Come on. That’s it.”

Mike follows the instructions blindly, only realizing how weak his knees feel when he sinks down and takes the weight off them. He bows his head and tries to breathe in, but the weird constriction around his chest persists, refusing to let more air into his lungs.

“Mike. Look at me.”

He blinks his eyes open and tries to focus on Harvey, who has lowered himself before him. He still looks worried, but there’s a calm determination in his expression, and Mike clings to that.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

He nods, because a little comfort would be more than welcome right now, and Harvey puts both hands on him, one on his thigh, the other on his shoulder. The touch is surprisingly firm, almost like he’s steadying him, and Mike is glad for it because it gives him something to focus on rather than the fact that he still can’t fucking breathe.

“It’s alright,” Harvey tells him gently. “I’m here with you. You’re okay.”

He’s not really, but Harvey seems to believe it, so Mike thinks he should at least try to do the same.

“Can you tell me what you need?”

He would love to, if only he had the faintest idea.

“I don’t know,” he gets out, shaking his head. “I don’t know what this is, I’m…”

“Alright. Don’t worry about it. It’s all fine.” Harvey’s voice is soothing, slow and calm, a welcome contrast to the state of absolute chaos in his mind. “I think you’re having a panic attack. Have you ever had one before?”

Mike shakes his head mutely. It makes sense, he realizes; this is a textbook example. He knows he read about it once, about what to do in a situation like this, but he can’t for the life of him _remember_.

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

That’s good. That’ll work. Thank god Harvey is here with him, because together they can work this out. They always do.

“I need you to do something for me,” Harvey says, making sure that his eyes are focused on him. “Okay? Listen closely.”

Mike nods. “I’m listening.”

“First of all, take deep breaths. Slow and steady. Like me, see? Just do what I’m doing. In… out. In… out. Just like that.”

He squeezes his leg in encouragement when he follows his lead. “Very good. I know it feels like you’re not getting enough air, but you are. I promise you are. Just keep doing what you’re doing right now.”

Mike nods, forcing himself to keep up the slow rhythm.

“Now, I need you to recite Nick’s lines from act two for me. Just go through them one by one, out loud. Can you do that?”

The pointlessness of the task makes Mike frown, but he nods when he realizes that Harvey is serious, closing his eyes until he can recall the lines and begins. He’s not reciting them very well, focused on getting through them rather than making them come alive, but it seems to satisfy Harvey, who listens in silence, never letting go of him.

“Good job,” he praises him when he’s done. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Mike says after an experimental breath, relieved to find that it’s coming much easier than before. “I’m… I’m okay, I think.” He takes another deep breath for good measure, then sighs. “Jesus, that was- I’ve never felt anything like this before. That was scary as hell.”

“Yeah,” Harvey agrees quietly. “It is.”

Mike swallows, rubbing his neck. The immediate sense of impending doom is gone, but instead he just feels wrung out now, like he could sleep for a year, and a little embarrassed on top of it. “Thank you, for… you know. That. Sorry you had to see this.”

Harvey frowns. “Don’t apologize. I mean it. This isn’t something you can control, and it’s nothing you should be ashamed of.”

Mike purses his lips and drops his gaze to his knees. Harvey’s hand is still on his leg. “I guess,” he mutters.

Harvey is silent for a few seconds before he says, “I’m familiar with panic attacks, you know. I’ve had them myself.”

Mike’s eyes snap up. “You have?”

He doesn’t know why that surprises him so much. Maybe because it so blatantly contradicts the cool and collected image of him he has in his head. Or maybe just because he’s admitting to it out loud.

Why shouldn’t he, though? He’s right, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. But understanding that emotionally is very different from understanding it rationally. Seems like Harvey is a few steps ahead of him in that regard.

He nods. “The first time was when I graduated from Juilliard. An isolated incident. The second was during my first play with Jessica. Had a couple of them, that time. Before we opened, and then again when we were nearing our final show. That was the worst episode I ever had.”

Mike listens quietly. “What did you do about them?”

“At first I tried to handle it myself, mainly by ignoring that it was happening until I was knee-deep in the next one already. When it became clear that approach wasn’t working… therapy. Jessica gave me the nudge in that direction, actually. She walked in on me in the middle of a panic attack once, and when I admitted that it wasn’t the first one, she told me that I could neither find peace, nor do my work justice if I didn’t figure out my emotions first.”

He shrugs. “And she was right. I wasn’t exactly happy about it, but it was the right thing to do, and I’m glad she made me do it. I was lucky to find a good therapist on the first try. I went in hoping to get some pills to take care of it and put the whole thing to rest, but quickly realized that I had to put in some work instead if I really wanted to resolve the issue. So I did. Wasn’t easy, but I’ve never once regretted taking that step.”

Mike’s breath hitches when Harvey absently brushes his thigh. His hand has fallen away from his shoulder, leaving a cold spot after the prolonged contact, but the one on his leg doesn’t move away, like he’s forgotten he put it there at all.

“Did you have any more after that?” Mike asks, clearing his throat.

“A handful. Spread out over a long time though, and less and less frequently. The last one was two years ago at a stoplight. Rush hour. It wasn’t great, not gonna lie, but I haven’t had another one since.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. “For what it’s worth, there are things you can do to take the edge off a little. Breathing techniques, grounding yourself, stuff like that. It doesn’t always have to be this bad.”

He was already showing him that, Mike realizes. The breathing rhythm he dictated, the hold on his body keeping him in the here and now, distracting him by making him focus on the play rather than his thoughts. He swallows against the irrational tears welling up in his eyes, covering Harvey’s hand with his own and hoping it’ll convey his gratitude.

Harvey turns his hand beneath his palm, giving him a firm squeeze.

“Identifying what triggered it can really help preventing another one, you know. Do you have any idea what caused yours today?”

“I think so,” Mike mutters. “I… got recognized this morning. Which was actually pretty damn cool, and the woman was super nice and respectful, but it just… made me realize how big this whole thing actually is, I guess. ‘Cause, you know, she was treating me like I was already an established actor with dozens of awards to my name, and she had all these expectations and I just… I don’t know. It was… overwhelming.”

“What exactly was overwhelming about it?”

Mike sucks in his lip. He doesn’t want to meet Harvey’s eyes, but they’re holding him in place, demanding nothing less than absolute honesty.

“The idea that I might not be able to meet them, I guess.”

“Do you really believe that? That you’re not good enough to be up on that stage?”

It’s not a reproach in any way, just a genuine question. The fact makes it a little easier to answer.

“No, I mean… I know that I’m good, right? I’ve always been good. But being good in a high school production is very different from being good on fucking Broadway. And… is good even good enough? Good isn’t even good. Good is terrible, broadly speaking. I mean, look at the rest of you,” he says, waving towards Harvey. “You, Louis, Sheila, you’re all… outstanding actors. And then there’s me, who’s never been part of a professional production, who didn’t even do any acting since he got kicked out of school because I was too busy sulking, and now I- I don’t know. It just feels like I don’t belong here sometimes.”

Harvey hums.

“I get where you’re coming from, because old habits die hard and I think you have a bit of a history of beating yourself up about your own shortcomings. With that being said, this is complete bullshit.”

He states it so matter-of-factly that Mike can’t help but let out a short laugh. “Is it?” he asks, and Harvey just nods and lifts an eyebrow.

“You’ve gotta remember that the reason you’re here is because _I_ wanted you here. Do you honestly think I would have put my shirt on just anyone?”

“No,” Mike admits.

“No,” Harvey agrees, shaking his head. “You belong here as much as any of us, if not more. You’ve been denied the opportunity to show the world what you’ve got before. It’s about time we redeemed that.”

“But that’s just it,” Mike mutters. “I’m only here because of you, and of course I trust your professional opinion, and I know I’m not exactly terrible and I’ve been improving since we started, but… I feel like I took a shortcut, and sooner or later I’m gonna have to pay for it. This is too good to be true.”

“It’s not, though. This is nothing more and nothing less than exactly what you deserve. Look at all the hard work you’re putting into this play, Mike. You’re not getting anything you haven’t earned. Your path may be unconventional, but there’s nothing underhanded about it. Your being here is justified.”

He lifts his shoulders.

“Besides, I may have given you the opportunity, but you’re the one who took it. You’re the one who stood in front of Jessica and convinced her when she didn’t want to be convinced. It was your talent that got you this part, and it’s your hard work that proves how much you deserve it.”

Mike swallows. “I suppose.”

It definitely helps calm the voice in his head to see that Harvey’s faith in him is unwavering, but it’s still hard to grasp why, what moved him to put so much trust in a screw-up with no accomplishments to his name in the first place.

“Why?” he asks, clearing his throat when Harvey lifts an eyebrow in silent question. “Why did you even give me this chance? You never told me.”

He never asked either, the answer not having seemed that important before in the grand scheme of things, but it is now, it’s vital for him to know, to understand.

Harvey regards him quietly.

“Because I saw something in you, kid. And I wanted to see more of it, but more importantly, I thought it was time _you_ got to see more of it.”

There’s a part of Mike, stubborn and persistent, that still believed what it must have come down to is pity or something equally whimsical; nothing that actually has something to do with him, so this… this isn’t quite what he expected to hear.

He swallows, wanting to say something but finding himself unable to, Harvey’s eyes still on his, the hand grasping his own holding him in place, and Mike’s heart starts pounding again as the silence stretches, for an entirely different reason this time, and-

There’s a knock on the door, and the spell is broken. He startles, both of them letting go of each other in an instant, Harvey’s eyes finally leaving his when he turns around to see Donna peeking inside.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. I need you outside so we can go over your schedule for next week.” Her eyes move to Mike, no doubt taking in the unusual position they’re in, and she frowns as she asks, “Everything alright?”

Harvey straightens, giving her a quick smile. “Yeah. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Donna nods, closing the door, and he turns back to Mike. “Are you gonna be okay on your own? I’ll stay if you want the company. It’s not a problem.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine. You’ve done more than enough already. I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Harvey tells him, and there’s no doubt in his mind that he actually means that, and Mike wants to close his eyes and laugh and cry at the same time because how the hell is he real? How is this happening to him?

“Take care of yourself when you go home,” he instructs. “If you need anything, call me.”

Mike nods weakly, attempting a smile. “I will. Thanks again.”

The smile slips from his face when the door shuts behind Harvey, leaving too much empty space where he was just a moment ago.

“Jesus,” Mike mutters, burying his face in his hands. He’s much calmer than he was before, yes, but much more frightened too.

Because he’s in big trouble. He can’t deny it anymore, can’t go on pretending that he doesn’t have a crush on Harvey when everyone and their goddamn mother can probably see it.

Well, technically he doesn’t, a small voice in his head points out, the thought almost eliciting a hysterical laugh. Because this, this is not a crush anymore. This is him well on his way to falling in love with Harvey, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yes, it says 17 chapters now. The idea for an epilogue happened that demanded to be written, but that's the final count, promise ;)


	7. Chapter 7

As it turns out, what happens on stage is the least of Harvey’s problems – he _is_ a professional and he _can_ keep his work and his private life separated, that’s not the issue.

The real problem is what happens off stage.

It starts on a perfectly ordinary Friday.

It’s been a long week for everyone, Jessica lighting a fire under them with the premiere date coming closer and closer, and while the mood isn’t exactly terrible, there’s a distinct lack of the usual energy that builds between them when they work as a group.

Mike hasn’t mentioned the panic attack since it happened, and apart from an inquiry about his wellbeing the next day, Harvey followed his lead and let the matter slide, contenting himself with watching closely for any signs that he was struggling, anything suggesting he was hiding something from him. He seemed fine though, tired as the rest of them but nothing more than that.

Indeed, when Jessica releases them and Sheila breathes out a quiet _finally_ , Mike bounces up from his seat and approaches him with renewed energy that Harvey almost envies him for.

“Happy weekend!”

“One can only hope,” Harvey remarks, but smiles despite himself at Mike’s good mood, infectious as it always is.

“Oh, come on. We have the rest of the day and then all of Saturday and Sunday off. If that’s not a reason to be happy, I don’t know what is.”

It is, especially in light of their schedule for the months ahead – tech week is coming up soon, he realized this morning, and that means opening night is just around the corner, sounding the bell for weeks and weeks of performing once, sometimes twice a day, six times a week. There’s no need to mention that to Mike just yet though, if he isn’t already aware of it himself. With how badly he took it last time, Harvey sees no reason to turn his attention back to the demanding nature of what they’ll be doing in front of a live audience soon.

“You don’t have all of Saturday off,” he points out instead. “You have yoga tomorrow.”

“Right,” Mike realizes, then waves his hand. “That isn’t until noon, though. Plenty of time to sleep in and enjoy a lazy morning before. And a not so lazy night out ahead of that?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“You know what? I’m in,” Harvey decides on a whim, ignoring the small voice in his head telling him that it’s a bad idea. “Let’s get some drinks. I think I’ll go for a run and take a shower first, but we can meet around… eight?”

“Awesome. You do that, I’ll go and take a nap in the meantime,” Mike tells him, grinning as he walks backwards to grab his things. “Meet at your place?”

“Yeah,” Harvey agrees, returning the smile he gives him as he turns to leave. “See you there.”

He lets out a deep breath once he’s gone, repressing a sigh.

He’s not gonna let that stubborn part of him wondering if this is a good idea keep him from having a good time, and he’s sure as hell not going to give up an opportunity to be with Mike just because he couldn’t control his damn feelings. That’s exactly what he’s trying to stop from happening; that their friendship suffers because of his little crush.

He doesn’t want to lose Mike’s friendship, so he’s not going to, end of story.

A run is just what he needs to clear his head. They’ve been spending all week together, even without their usual tutoring sessions. They’re working on the scenes that Mike is barely in right now, if at all, and since he’s doing extraordinarily well in pretty much all other aspects, there wasn’t really any need to have another one of those lately. Harvey would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it, but since it means that Mike’s hard work is paying off, he can’t be too sad about it.

Besides, it’s not like they’re seeing less of each other because of it. Rehearsals take up most of their time, and they still hang out afterwards or on the increasingly less frequent day off they get. He’s probably just doubting himself because he’s around Mike more or less all the time, and it’s clouding his judgment.

There’s no reason to worry. He can set aside any and all feelings of a romantic nature while they’re together. He can trust himself to stay in control, he always can.

Just as soon as he’s shaken off the spell that constantly being with him has put him under.

He checks the weather forecast when he gets home, and since it’s not supposed to rain, he decides to forego the gym and head to Central Park instead. It’s a grey day, not quite warm enough to be comfortable, but Harvey knows he’s going to start sweating soon enough, and he wants to feel the wind on his face as he runs.

The steady rhythm of his feet on the ground carries him into the meditative state he’s been craving within minutes, allowing his thoughts to fall away one by one until all he’s focusing on is his heavy breathing and the movement of his body.

He pushes himself to run another round, and another, not wanting it to end, trying to get the absolute most out of it until his legs can’t carry him any longer and his lungs protest as much as his limbs against the prolonged strain.

It’s all the more rewarding for it, and it does the trick; once he emerges from the hot shower he takes afterwards, he feels a lot more settled than before.

Mike knocks on his door a few minutes before eight – the doorman knows to let him up without question by now – and Harvey only throws on a jacket and grabs his wallet before they head out, the busy streets of Manhattan on a Friday night swallowing them up immediately.

“Anywhere in particular you wanna go?” he asks as they walk.

“Not really.” Mike hums in thought. “We could go to that Irish place you showed me the other day. Or… oh, you know what? There was this bar a couple of blocks from here that I ended up in some years ago, that was pretty cool. I wonder if it’s still there.”

“You know the address?”

“Not in so many words, but I do know how to get there from here.”

“Let’s check it out then. Even if it closed, I’m sure there’ll be other bars around.”

They’re in luck, because the bar – which Harvey doesn’t recognize as such on first glance, no signs or anything trying to lure potential customers inside – is still where Mike remembers it.

“Well, I stand corrected,” he mutters when they go inside, and Mike grins.

“Told you it was nice.”

“You wouldn’t know it from the outside though.”

Mike chuckles. “I know. I never would have gone in here myself either, but we met those people in a bar a few blocks away, and they brought us here. I think it’s cozy.”

It is. Not in any palpable way, but the overall atmosphere is very calm and relaxed for a bar, though no less cheerful for it. Harvey likes it immediately.

“Let’s get some drinks then, see if they’re as good as they look.”

The selection the bar offers is rather impressive, and while Mike goes with a beer and a shot that he remembers, Harvey goes for one of their more expensive scotches, finding himself pleasantly surprised.

“Try it,” he tells Mike, swirling it underneath his nose until he gives in.

“It’s good,” he agrees. Harvey rolls his eyes.

“Obviously it is. What else?”

“It’s… strong?”

“You’re a heathen,” Harvey mutters, retracting the drink to take a sip himself.

“We can’t all be connoisseurs, can we?”

“Clearly not, though I doubt I fall into that category. Being able to differentiate between a few tastes doesn’t make me an expert.”

“But I thought you were an expert on everything,” Mike says innocently, a grin spreading on his face when Harvey sends him a withering look.

“You know what? Forget it. Just stick to acting, leave the rest to me.”

Mike’s expression softens into a genuine smile as he nods. “I’m more than happy to do that, believe me.”

Harvey pauses, lifting an eyebrow. “I take it the whole people-watching-you-thing didn’t intimidate you enough to hang up acting after this, then?”

Mike chuckles. “Not unless I fuck up real bad, no. I mean, it’s intimidating enough, absolutely, but… I’m loving this too much to let that stop me. This is all I ever wanted, you know? Everything I dreamed of, ever since I was a kid, and I’m not gonna let the fear of failure stop me from pursuing that. Not again. Provided that someone else casts me after this, of course.”

Harvey scoffs, taking a nip of his scotch. “Yeah, like that’s gonna be an issue.”

“I know, I know. You saw what I can do, Jessica did too, and I’ve only improved since, but still, it’s… I have no professional training. There’s always gonna be someone who can do what I can do _and_ went to drama school on top of it. Not everyone is going to be as happy to choose me over someone with actual qualifications, you know.”

The smile on his face looks a little sad now. Harvey exhales deeply, because he’s not wrong, and it’s better for him to be aware of how challenging things could get anyway, but he can’t help but feel that there’s still some sort of insecurity playing into it, the deeply rooted belief that he’s not good enough to be part of this world.

He refuses to let that go unchallenged.

“Maybe not, but someone will. And if you keep doing what you’re doing now, working hard, going the extra mile, investing your heart and soul in the part you’re playing… no one’s gonna be able to turn you away. Not if they’re in their right mind.”

Mike blinks at him, then picks up his beer, hiding his smile behind the bottle.

“Well, if you say so.”

“I do say so. And you had better believe it, because I think we established that I’m an expert on everything, including this.”

“This meaning me?”

“I was going for acting, but you know what? It works both ways.”

Mike chuckles. “You’re probably right about that,” he mutters before he lifts his beer again. Harvey doesn’t say anything in response, but smiles into his scotch as well.

They order a second drink when they’re done with the first ones, both going for a martini this time, which is also exceptionally good, and Harvey would have happily settled in to stick around the rest of the night if Mike hadn’t stopped mid-sentence at some point, freezing with a mildly concerning look on his face.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, staring at a point somewhere over Harvey’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning as he turns around.

“That guy over there,” Mike says with a nod. “That’s Trevor. Oh god, he’s seen me. And now he’s coming over to us. Fuck.”

Harvey finally locates the man making his way through the crowd, clearly headed towards them. He has no time to turn back to Mike and ask what he wants to do before he’s already at their table, glancing between them. Up close he looks even more disagreeable.

“Well, this is a surprise.”

“Trevor,” Mike acknowledges him, his voice even. “What do you want?”

“Peace, man. I’m just saying hi to an old friend, or whatever the hell you are now. No need to whip out that restraining order just yet.”

The joke falls flat, neither Harvey nor Mike in the mood to laugh at it, and Trevor’s smile falters before he shakes himself, straightening with a deep breath.

“You look good. I guess that fancy new lifestyle is treating you well, huh?”

“Thanks,” is all Mike says before he goes silent again. He doesn’t react to the veiled reproach in the slightest, doesn’t return the compliment, just very clearly waits for him to leave.

Not clear enough for Trevor though. That, or he simply doesn’t care what Mike wants. Harvey has the uncomfortable feeling that it’s the second option.

He eyes Mike for a few seconds, then turns to Harvey, giving him a look that would have left anyone else fidgeting in discomfort. As it is, Harvey just returns it, lifting a challenging eyebrow.

“Who’s this, then? Your new boyfriend?”

At this, Mike snaps out of his rigid quietness, giving Trevor an incredulous look.

“My new boyfr- are you serious? What the hell do you care? Don’t tell me you’re fucking jealous.”

The disbelieving laugh he lets out on the last word makes Trevor back up, raising his hands to appease him.

“Come on, man. I just, I miss you.”

Harvey blinks in surprise at the unexpected honesty, but Mike only laughs again, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to miss me when all you did was give me reasons to leave, and you especially don’t get to know who I’m going out with anymore. You’re not my boyfriend, Trevor. You never were. You made that very clear, remember?”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow, looking between them. Trevor has the decency to appear chastised by the remark, and part of him hopes that Mike isn’t going to fall for that beaten puppy look, but when he glances at him, his face is hard and unrelenting. He bites his lip to hide his smile at the irrational sense of pride washing through him.

A grimace flashes over Trevor’s face before he presses his lips together, deciding not to own up to whatever mess he made in the past. No surprise there.

“So you don’t miss me, then,” he says instead, and Harvey half expects him to cross his arms and pout like a child. “Not even a little bit.”

Mike lets out a deep breath. “I’ve moved on, Trevor,” he says diplomatically. “I suggest you do the same.”

His voice is not unkind, only determined, leaving no room for argument.

“Look,” he continues, “I told you to leave me alone and I appreciate that you’ve been doing what I asked since- the last time we talked. Don’t ruin it now, alright? Just leave it.”

Trevor lets out a deep breath, his jaw working like he’s going to say something – something unhelpful, no doubt – but then he deflates, the fight visibly leaving him.

“Alright. Whatever you want.” He pushes his hands into his pockets as he looks between them. “Enjoy your night then. I guess I’ll see you around. Or not.”

He turns to go, but Harvey doesn’t bother watching him disappear in the crowd, his eyes fixed on Mike instead. He’s biting his lip, staring over Harvey’s shoulder, a frown on his face. There’s still a distinct air of irritation to him, only that he looks uncomfortable on top of it now.

Understandably. Running into a ghost from your recent past is never pleasant, and while he held up impressively, Harvey isn’t surprised in the slightest to see that the encounter affected him.

“Hey,” he asks, raising his chin. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… sorry about that.”

“About what? There’s no need to apologize.”

Mike drops his eyes to his glass.

“Come on,” Harvey decides on a whim, smiling and tilting his head towards the door when he looks up. “Let’s get out of here.”

Mike nods gratefully, and they empty their drinks and leave the bar without another look in Trevor’s direction.

Harvey feels the alcohol buzzing in his system as they head outside, warm and pleasant, telling him that he drank a little too much too fast, but it’s a sacrifice he’s more than willing to make for Mike’s comfort. Besides, that _is_ what they came here for. He’s just getting a head start.

“Well, that cut the night a little short,” Mike remarks once the bar has disappeared behind them.

Harvey huffs. If he thinks he’s going to let him go home by himself to brood over Trevor now, he’s got another thing coming.

“We’re not cutting anything short,” he tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re only just getting started.”

It’s probably best to avoid any other bars they know from their pasts, so he decides on a new one as they go along, simply because it’s there and it doesn’t look like a total shithole.

“Let’s go in here. Next round’s on me.”

Mike follows his lead without much enthusiasm, his mind clearly elsewhere, and Harvey orders them both something a little stronger, thinking that he can probably use it.

He guesses Mike is gonna want to talk about what happened, and so he gives him time to mull it over, turning his glass in his hands again and again before he lets out a deep breath and raises it, downing half of the drink in one go.

Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “That help?” he inquires idly, and Mike sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna let him get under my skin, but I just…”

“Is it because you _do_ miss him?” Harvey asks when he doesn’t find an end to that sentence. Mike’s eyes snap up, a guilty expression on his face, and Harvey reaches for his hand on instinct, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey. No one’s blaming you for that. In fact, I’d be surprised if you didn’t miss him in one way or another.”

“It’s not that I think about him constantly or anything,” Mike defends himself, lifting his shoulders. “Most of the time I don’t think of him at all, actually. But sometimes I see something that reminds me of him, and it’s… weird, not to reach out and tell him about it anymore.”

“Of course it is. You don’t stop caring about people from one day to the next just because they’re not part of your life anymore, do you? Give it some time. And don’t beat yourself up about having those thoughts. It’s fine. Running into him was unfortunate, but you’ll get over it. As will he.”

Mike presses his lips together. “It was my fault. I should have anticipated he’d be there. We were together when we discovered that place. I had no idea he still frequented it, but…”

“Bullshit,” Harvey interrupts, not unkindly. “Stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control. That way lies madness.”

Mike sighs, but rolls his shoulders, sitting up as he nods in determination. “You’re right, you’re right. This has taken up enough of our night already. Though I _will_ say that I kind of enjoy your empathetic side coming to light.”

Harvey scoffs. “I fabricate emotions for a living. My empathic side is always coming to light. Apparently a little too much sometimes,” he adds under his breath.

Mike lifts an eyebrow, and he elaborates, “You can’t tell me you didn’t see the looks Louis threw me when Rachel did that extensive work on the almost-sex scene with Sheila and me. They were dirty, Mike. The definition of dirty.”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?”

Harvey nods gravely. “It’s a miracle I’m sitting here in one piece with you at all. I don’t get that guy. It’s like, he’s this incredible actor with an outstanding comprehension for what this job means and entails, and then he gets jealous because I’m making out with his girlfriend on stage. As part of the job.”

Mike snorts. “Is she? His actual girlfriend, I mean?”

“I think so. They haven’t made it official, as far as I know, but they’re clearly still seeing each other so I guess it’s only a matter of time.”

“Huh. Good for them, I suppose.” Mike takes a sip of his drink, narrowing his eyes. “Well, if _you_ don’t get him, and you’ve known him since you went to Juilliard together, I guess I can just stop trying to understand what’s going on in his head.”

“Might save you a lot of headaches,” Harvey agrees dryly.

“If we keep this pace up it definitely won’t,” Mike remarks, nodding at their drinks, already nearing their ends again. “Far be it from me to complain, though.”

“Good. You can pay for the next round then.”

He does, and the one after that, and by the time Harvey insists that the next one is on him again he’s in no state to argue anymore. It’s getting close to midnight, but neither of them is paying attention to the time, separating to go home the farthest thing from their minds.

“I’m… drunk,” Mike announces, setting down his glass with a little more force and a lot more concentration than necessary. “Congratulations. You got me drunk. You… compromised me.”

Harvey snorts, well aware of the grin on his face even though he’s rather unable to do anything about it. “I don’t recall forcing you to drink, kid. _You,_ on the other hand. You compromised _me_.”

“I didn’t force you either,” Mike dissents, shaking his head.

“Not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean, then?”

Harvey chuckles. “Can’t tell you.”

Mike sends him a glare, the effect somewhat diminished by the hazy look in his eyes. “Words, words, words,” he mutters.

“Hey, you like words. _I_ like words. We… work with words. All the time.”

“Yeah, we do,” Mike agrees, nodding. “Words are good. Work is good, too.” He chuckles. “We’re good. We’re _awesome._ ”

He lifts his drink, remembering too late that he finished it five minutes ago. The disappointment on his face soon gives way to a look of excitement.

“We should rehearse. Right now.” He hiccups. “What do you say? Wanna do some… tutoring?”

Harvey lifts his head, blinking his eyes open as he tries to focus. “You wanna?”

“Of course I do. It’s been what, a year since we did it?”

Harvey snorts. “We haven’t even known each other for a year,” he points out, and Mike huffs in disbelief.

“No way. Really? Nah-ah, that can’t be right. I’ve known you, like, forever.”

Harvey hums thoughtfully.

“You know what? Maybe you have.” He drains his glass, then claps his hands together and rises from his seat, his feet a little wobblier than anticipated but otherwise stable enough. “Alright. Let’s go do some… tutoring.”

It’s the idea that Mike missed their extra sessions as much as he has that makes him determined to do this right now, because they’re both here and they want this and why the hell should they wait? The time they have left is slowly but surely running out, because soon there will be no need to rehearse anymore. Better make use of it while they still can. No time like the present.

Mike is all too happy to oblige, equally unsteady on his feet but making up for it in enthusiasm.

“Let’s do this!” he announces, pushing the doors open only to stumble over the first step and nearly fall down the stairs. Harvey would have liked to catch him, but by the time he realizes what happened he’s already clinging to the railing, laughing.

“Whoopsie.”

“Hold on a second. Hold on.” Harvey slowly descends from the stairs, only continuing when he’s on the sidewalk with Mike, a hand on his arm as if to catch him in retrospect, “You’re not going home like this when we’re done. You’re staying with me.”

“Obviously. Duh.”

Harvey nods, satisfied. “Let’s go. I’m freezing.”

He looks around, squinting as he tries to figure out what part of Manhattan they ended up in. “Where the hell are we? Oh, I know. Follow me.”

Mike trails after him, humming something to himself that Harvey is pretty sure is that blonde girl’s song from ‘Frozen’.

They walk in companionable silence, Harvey sometimes joining in on Mike’s humming when he recognizes the melody, making their way through the streets, still busy even at this time of the night. The city that never sleeps indeed.

“We could have taken a car,” Harvey realizes at one point, not because he minds walking with Mike, but because they’ve been doing so for twenty minutes and it only just occurred to him.

“Or the subway,” Mike says beside him. Harvey has to laugh.

“No way,” he says. “The subway’s terrible. It’s a… safety hazard.”

“In our current state probably more than ever,” Mike agrees, and so they keep walking, the distance entirely insignificant, whether there’s a hundred or a hundred thousand steps ahead of them not making the slightest difference.

It’s a cold night, but there’s still no rain, and the alcohol is doing an adequate job of keeping them warm. When Harvey looks at Mike, there’s an enticing flush in his cheeks, if from the cold or the walking he doesn’t know, but he hopes it stays there for a long, long time because it simply looks adorable.

Mike catches him staring, which is probably because Harvey isn’t being very subtle about it. “What?” he demands to know, a grin on his face. “What’re you looking at?”

“I’m… thinking. About-“ He narrows his eyes- “what’s her name? Little Red Riding Hood.”

Mike is silent, then bursts into laughter. “Why the hell are you thinking about that?”

“Because,” Harvey says, looking ahead again. The sound of his laughter elates him, putting an almost indiscernible skip into his step.

“That explains it,” Mike mutters, but doesn’t ask again. Maybe he’s already forgotten about it.

They may have been walking for an hour, or maybe just a few minutes when they make it to Harvey’s apartment. He doesn’t know, and it honestly doesn’t matter, because they’ve got all night and Mike is in his living room and he’s going straight for the whiskey like it’s his own, but maybe it is, because Harvey would give it to him if he asked so it doesn’t matter anyway.

“Another round on you,” Mike announces with a grin, the contents of the glass splashing over when he hands it to Harvey.

“Or you,” he says, and Mike probably isn’t following his train of thought, but he just keeps grinning and agrees, “Yeah.”

He holds out the glass to clink it with Harvey’s. “To tutoring.” He snorts. “That’s funny. Tu-tutoring.”

“It is funny,” Harvey says, taking a big gulp before he flops down on the sofa. “Just like the play. The play’s… really funny.”

“I know. Hilarious. Hi-larious. But terrible too. People are so… messed up.”

“ _So_ messed up,” Harvey agrees solemnly. “Better for us, though. If people were just nice, our work would be so boring.”

“Super boring. Like… Louis talking about mud. That kinda boring.”

“Exactly.”

Mike downs his drink, then wipes his mouth with his sleeve and staggers to his feet.

“Let’s work!” he announces, his glass hovering in the air while he decides what to do with it before he eventually turns around and places it on the table.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s.”

Harvey sits up, not quite daring to get to his feet yet when the room starts moving immediately.

“What do you wanna do? I don’t know if I remember my lines.”

Mike snorts. “Don’t let that happen on stage!” he warns, pointing at him. “No more alcohol for you.”

“Opening night isn’t for a while yet. Just let me drink, kid.”

Mike blows raspberries in his general direction. “ _You’re_ the kid,” he declares, shaking his head as he turns around to pace the room. “Can’t hold your liquor.”

He makes his way past Harvey’s shelves, getting distracted by what’s on them a couple of times before he seems to remember what they were talking about. Harvey could have reminded him, but he’s happy to watch him in silence from his still moving spot on the sofa instead.

“You’re probably right though,” Mike says, turning back to him. “No lines tonight. Let’s… hmm.” He purses his lips in thought, then lights up and bursts into giggles. “I know! We should do _physical_ work. Practice our moves.”

Harvey frowns, watching him sway from side to side a little.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“No, it is, it is. If we can do it like this, we can guara- guaranteened do it on stage. Guaranteed,” he corrects, his eyes narrowed.

Harvey considers this.

“You’ve got a point,” he concedes, managing to get up on the second try. “Let’s practice those moves.”

“I am,” Mike says with a grin, doing Honey’s drunken dance with a realism that Harvey has to admit he hasn’t managed before. Maybe this really was a good idea.

“What should I do?”

“Dance with me,” he instructs. Harvey chuckles, because dancing with Mike sounds amazing, but dancing with Mike-as-Honey is good too, so he gets up and does as he asked.

There’s no music, but neither of them is bothered by the fact, not with Mike humming something that vaguely sounds like the song they’re using in the play as they dance. Harvey can’t do the exact choreography for the simple reason that the room is spinning too much, but considers that hardly important. He’s not all that focused on himself anyway. It’s almost outrageous that Mike, while moving in the most ridiculous ways, still looks as adorable as he does, and more than a little attractive too. No wonder Harvey can’t take his eyes off him.

He realizes after a while that he’s not doing the choreography at all, or at least not anymore, instinctively having started to copy Mike’s movements as they danced around each other, getting close every now and then before parting again. He gets so caught up in the rhythm of it that he startles when Mike stops him abruptly with a hand on his arm, stumbling as they come to a halt.

“Wait, wait, wait! Something’s missing.”

“What?”

“Rachel.”

Harvey frowns. “We can’t call Rachel. It’s far too late.”

“That’s okay,” Mike says, putting a hand over his chest before pointing at Harvey. “I be Rachel. You be… you.”

“Alright. But you be you, too.”

Mike snorts. “Obvis- obviously. Let me… ah! Fall.”

Harvey blinks at him. “Me or you?”

He shrugs. “You.”

Harvey nods and, after a moment of consideration, turns around to let himself fall backwards into Mike’s arms, but is stopped by the little table in his way before he can, making him lose his balance.

Mike catches him a second too late – he’s already caught himself on the armrest of the sofa – but Harvey isn’t about to get technical.

“Oops,” is all he says as he straightens, blinking until the room spins a little less again. “Does that count?”

“You did fall, so… I say yes. Yes, yes.”

“Good. Don’t know if I could do that again. Without… hurting you. Or myself.”

“Uh-oh. Jessica would kill us if we showed up hurt.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Harvey agrees with a snort. “I wanna live to see another day, thank you very much.”

“You are most welcome,” Mike says with a bow that’s just as ridiculous as his words.

“Give me another,” Harvey decides, mostly because he wants to see more of him being silly.

“Eye contact,” Mike shoots back immediately, tumbling over as he tries to get closer to him, putting both hands on his shoulders to steady himself.

They stare into each other’s eyes intently, neither of them blinking for a good long while before Mike bursts into laughter, Harvey following suit a second later. Despite their giggling, they keep trying to hold eye contact until Harvey loses himself in it, forgetting what they were trying to accomplish in the first place.

“We’re not doing this right,” he mutters.

“Whatever. Let’s call it a success.” Mike leans in with a massive grin until his forehead hits Harvey, not so hard that it hurts, just enough for him to feel the heat he radiates.

“Yeah, definitely not doing that right,” Harvey remarks when he’s drawn back and he finds his voice again. He remembers his drink and turns around, picking it up to take a sip.

Mike shrugs. “It’s more fun this way, though.”

He retreats a few steps, then spins around and yells, “Hug!”

Harvey’s arms wrap around him on autopilot, and he dissolves into a fit of laughter as he sinks against him until he has to hold him up.

“You’re heavy,” Harvey complains, but even in his current state his arms are tight around him, holding him securely. He wouldn’t let go for anything. He wouldn’t let him fall.

“Am not. You’re comfy, though. Suuuper comfortable.”

He wraps his arms around his middle and holds on before he pushes himself up, far too soon for Harvey’s taste.

“I wanna dance again,” he declares. “Let’s dance.”

He chuckles at his own movements as he spreads his arms and sways around the room, lost in a melody Harvey can’t hear. He doesn’t care, joining in anyway, and Mike whirls around him and against him until he stops, a glint in his eye as he points at him.

“Now kiss! Dip and kiss.”

“What?”

“I’m being Rachel. Keep up, Harvey. We gotta dip and kiss.”

“That’s not even an order,” he says, because Rachel doesn’t have authority over the kissing that happens on stage, only Jessica, but even so he’s already contemplating how to make this work.

Mike stops and stares at him, over-enunciating every word as he repeats slowly, “Dip. And. Kiss.”

Harvey lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine,” he says, holding out his hands before he remembers to put his glass down first. “Alright. Here we go.”

This isn’t their usual starting position for the move, but Mike narrows his eyes in concentration, whirling into his arms with just a little too much force – or maybe Harvey is just a little too drunk, the details escape him, but either way he fails to stay upright with the sudden weight in his arms, pulling Mike down with him as he tumbles onto the floor.

They end up in a heap on Harvey’s thankfully rather soft carpet, easing the fall, their limbs so entangled that he doesn’t even try to do anything about it.

Besides, this is surprisingly comfortable. Mike is pretty heavy on top of him, but Harvey relishes the feeling, likes how it holds him in place, how he’s soft and warm and very, very close to him.

“Did we break anything?” he asks against his chest, his voice muffled, and Harvey considers the question, then shakes his head.

“I didn’t hear anything. You okay?”

“Better than ever,” Mike declares, rubbing his face into Harvey’s shirt. “Didn’t break me either.”

“No. Would take more than that,” Harvey agrees. He gradually realizes that his arm is still wound around Mike’s waist where he caught him, trying to shield him from the worst of the tumble.

That feels nice, too. Mike clearly doesn’t mind either, if his lack of movement is any indication.

“Sorry,” Harvey mutters.

“Hm?”

“For letting you fall.”

“Mm. That’s okay. I landed softly.” He lifts his head and smiles at him, so sweetly that it takes Harvey’s breath away, although that might just be the additional weight on his chest.

Despite his shortness of breath, Harvey returns the smile without thinking, and the world is spinning a little less when he focuses on Mike, so he keeps gazing at him, watching him do the same through hooded eyes. The silence stretches, but he doesn’t become aware of it until all details of their previous conversation elude him when he tries to remember them.

“I forgot,” Harvey says slowly, struggling to focus on the words with his attention elsewhere, “what we were doing.”

It’s not easy to think with Mike so close, but he doesn’t hold it against him. That’s just what happens when he’s nearby.

“Orders,” Mike mutters. “Dip and kiss.”

“Ah. Yeah. Got the dip right, at least.”

Mike snorts. “Not the kiss, though.”

Harvey huffs. “You keep going on about that. You want a kiss, I’ll give you a damn kiss.”

His hands leave Mike’s waist to cup his face instead, pulling him in. It’s meant to be a joke, but Mike goes along with it a little too willingly, and from the moment their lips meet he very much stops feeling like laughing.

This kiss isn’t like all the other ones they’ve shared on stage, if those can even be called kisses. This one feels real. It’s a little sloppier than he would have liked, granted, but that only emphasizes the difference between this and the others, and it doesn’t take anything away from it, on the contrary.

This is goddamn _good_.

Even better is how readily Mike responds, no questions asked, and Harvey feels like he’s soaring despite the fact that they’re both sprawled out on the floor, emboldened to continue his clumsy explorations, his hands curling around Mike’s face as he pulls him closer.

What they lack in finesse, they make up for in enthusiasm, the warm weight of Mike’s body and the taste of his lips only spurring him on. None of that compares to the hot want flaring up in him at the urgent little sound he makes at some point though, so needy that Harvey just wants to devour him, and while the alcohol is keeping his body from following up on that desire, he responds with a low groan and presses into him, blindly trying to get as close as possible.

Sloppiness aside, this is shaping up to be one of the best kisses Harvey has had in his life.

He would have gladly gone on forever if matters hadn’t been taken out of his hands when Mike, shifting his legs to straddle him, accidentally kicks over the little table to their left, and the vase subsequently falling on top of them brings the kiss to a rather jarring halt.

Mike snorts, breaking the touch of their lips as he dissolves into giggles, the rumble of his chest so infectious that Harvey is powerless against it. He can’t even be mad that the kiss ended prematurely, because the feeling of their bodies moving together as they laugh is nothing short of heavenly.

“Was there water in that vase?” Mike asks when he’s caught his breath.

Harvey shakes his head. “Don’t have time for real flowers.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, still chuckling.

He twists to grab the vase, succeeding on the third attempt, and puts it a little behind Harvey where it hopefully won’t assault them again. Then he rolls off him, and Harvey frowns, but he’s not going far. Instead he comes to a rest right next to him as he blinks at the ceiling, his entire side pressed against Harvey’s.

“Don’t have flowers at my place either,” he tells him. “Never did. Well… Trevor tried to grow pot once, but that didn’t last.”

Harvey snorts, turning his head to look at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. He failed, obviously.” He huffs. “Like always when he had plans to do… something. Anything. He always failed. We both did.”

Harvey frowns at the gloomy tone of his voice. He nudges him with his elbow, patting his thigh to get his attention.

“Hey. Not anymore.”

Mike regards him, surprisingly attentive despite his hooded eyes, then looks back at the ceiling.

“No, I guess not. Weird how that worked out for me.”

“Not that weird. You _are_ very good at what you do,” Harvey points out. “Like, exceptionally good.”

It’s a miracle he gets the word out in one go. Mike smiles, nudging him right back.

“I’m lucky that way, aren’t I? Being good at something I actually love doing. There’s tons of people who are like, good at math but fucking hate their boring ass jobs. You know, where they have to use that.”

Harvey grimaces at the thought. “That is lucky,” he agrees.

Mike glances at him. “What made _you_ wanna act? You never told me.”

“In general or… professionally?”

Mike shrugs. “Both.”

Harvey lets out a deep breath as he thinks. “I guess… the idea of leaving your life behind, and yourself… to slip into another role. That intrigued me.”

Humming, Mike nods slowly. “Can see why. With your family and all.”

“Yeah. But I didn’t… I never thought about per- _pursuing_ it. Professionally. Always wanted to play baseball.” He lifts his shoulder. “Then I got hurt, and poof – that future was gone.”

“Oh, no,” Mike mutters, even though he knows the story.

Harvey nods. “Then I lost my way for a while. My… my drive.”

“Like me.”

“Yeah. Like you. And _then_ I met Jessica.” He chuckles. “I was in college. Came here to see a play. It was good, really good, but the lead actor…” He blows out the air through his lips and shakes his head. “Totally wrong for the part.”

Mike tuts.

“There was a… meet and greet thing afterwards? A Q&A. I had things to say, so I said them.”

“What, in front of, like… everyone?”

“Yeah. I was an asshole like that.”

“You still are,” Mike says, but the grin on his face tells him that he doesn’t really mean it.

“Can’t argue with that. For some reason, Jessica listened though. Still don’t know why she didn’t kick me out on the spot, but she… listened. Said something devastatingly smart in response. And then asked me to stick around until later, so I did.”

“Weren’t you afraid she was gonna kill you? Like, without witnesses.”

“A little bit,” he admits. “She did take me to a secluded room. But then she told me to show her how to do it better than that lead actor. I was… wholly unprepared, obviously, but I could tell she wasn’t doing it just to humiliate me. So I winged it.”

“Of course you did.” Mike snorts. “And probably got cast on the spot.”

“Not quite.” Harvey shakes his head with a grin. “She told me I was… what was it? In no way skilled enough to warrant the kind of arrogance I displayed.”

“Wow. So she did kill you.”

He shrugs. “She had a point. But then she was like, with that being said, you clearly have a deep understanding of the craft for an amateur, yada yada. Asked me what I did for a living. If I was interested in becoming an actor. I told her… I didn’t have the money, so she made me an offer. If I got into Juilliard, she’d pay for it and I’d come work with her afterwards. Obviously I said yes, and that was that.”

“Incredible,” Mike mutters. “They could make a movie out of that.”

“Out of you, too.”

“Nah-ah. I’d… incriminate myself by telling that story.”

He purses his lips as he stares ahead for a while, deep in thought.

“Isn’t it so weird how our lives just turned out… like that? When it’s so unlikely that I met you, and you met Jessica, and all of this… happened. That’s so weird.”

“Very,” Harvey agrees. “I’m glad it did, though. Would have been… very sad. Not to be here now.”

“Oh, man. Really, really sad,” Mike agrees, frowning. He blinks a few times, rubbing his eye with his palm. “Let’s not be sad. Let’s go to sleep… happy.”

“We will. Promise.”

Mike blinks at him. “Yeah?”

Harvey nods. “I’m always… always happy. With you around.”

Mike smiles and closes his eyes. “Me too.”

Harvey looks at the ceiling. The pattern on it seems to move, getting faster and faster the longer he watches it.

“I didn’t think this was gonna happen, you know. Not _this_ , just… you and me. Getting along so well.”

“Mh.”

“But it did. I don’t… have that, usually. With other people. Guess you’re just different from those. A good thing, really.”

He turns his head when his words are met with silence.

“Mike?”

A soft snore answers him. Part of Harvey is disappointed to find that this night has come to an untimely end, but Mike looks really cute passed out on his floor like this, and he’s getting rather tired too if he’s honest. He glances at him, reaching for his hand after only a short hesitation.

Mike doesn’t move, and so he slowly slides his hand into his and just holds it.

It’s warm and soft and so perfectly fitted in his own that Harvey almost can’t believe he only gets to do this in secret.

The thought sparks a flash of guilt that comes through even in his dazed state, and he thinks that he should probably do something about that before it turns into something he’s going to regret tomorrow.

He exhales deeply, then lets go, putting his hand right next to Mike’s before he closes his eyes and gives in to his exhaustion as well. He’s asleep within seconds.


	8. Chapter 8

Mike winces at Donna’s piercing laughter, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Please, can you keep it down a little?” he groans. “I’m suffering over here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Hardly possible, considering that you’ve been crying about how hungover you are since the moment you showed up,” Donna remarks dryly. “Two minutes late, I might add.”

“Which I count as a victory, so you don’t get to bully me for that.”

“I would never.”

“Yeah, right.”

Rachel pats his hand. “The food’s gonna help, you’ll see.”

“Will it?”

She chuckles. “Come on, this can’t be your first hangover. You’ll be alright.”

“This isn’t a regular hangover,” Mike whispers gloomily. “This is a hangover from hell, fortified by far too little sleep and the torture of attempting to do yoga immediately after waking up.”

“And yet, somehow my sympathy remains limited,” Donna muses. Mike glares at her.

“What did you two get up to last night anyway, to warrant a hangover like that?” Rachel asks, amused.

He groans again, covering his face with his hands.

“I’ve been asking myself that question since I got up this morning, so you know as much as I do.”

“You don’t remember?” Donna lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you had a blackout.”

“A little bit,” Mike admits. “It’s… I know we went to a bar, and then another one because we ran into Trevor, but after that… we ended up at Harvey’s place at some point, but I can’t for the life of me tell you more than that.”

All he remembers from that point on is that there was a lot more alcohol involved, and the next thing he knows is that he woke up on the floor, the alarm he remembered to set the night before ripping him from his slumber, nestled against Harvey with a fluttering in his stomach and the distinct sense that he’s in trouble.

It took him a minute to figure out where he was, why he was on the floor, and why he was on the floor cuddling with a still passed out Harvey specifically. Turning that dreadful noise off was the first step to regaining some sense of clarity, but that was about as far as he got.

There wasn’t much time to ponder the matter anyway. His past self, as a matter of prudence, had set the alarm as late as possible, and it had already taken him longer to get up than anticipated.

He managed to wake Harvey before he stumbled out of the door, who didn’t seem any less disorientated, but at least he didn’t have anywhere to be, unlike Mike who was going to be desperately late if he wanted to take a shower and change his clothes before yoga – which, a closer look at himself revealed, was non-negotiable.

“I think it’s pretty admirable you showed up anyway,” Rachel tells him.

“Well, my performance was a lot _less_ admirable, so that’s only a small comfort.”

He barely managed to follow Rachel’s instructions today, probably doing a worse job than during his first class, pain shooting through his head like little daggers every time he moved too fast or stretched the wrong way – which was any way, really.

“But you pushed through,” Rachel says with a gentle smile. “That’s the main thing.”

“I guess.” Mike sighs. “Well, at least I can confidently say that I won’t be drinking again for a good long while, so there won’t be a repeat performance of this anytime soon.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Donna covers his hand and shakes her head, smiling. “Opening night is ahead of us. You’re not gonna _stop_ drinking for a good long while.”

“What are you saying?”

“There’s an afterparty following the premiere, which you do not want to miss, I can assure you. And the cast tends to go for drinks after successful shows whenever they aren’t collapsing in their dressing rooms, so it’s pretty much perform, drink, sleep, repeat until the end of the run.”

Mike stares at her, then closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “Fine. But I won’t be overdoing it again like last night, I can tell you that much.”

“We’ll see,” Donna says with an ominous smile.

He glares at her. “Why do I even keep you around?”

“Because you love me and cherish my company. Everyone does.”

“Sure. Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

Rachel was right, of course. Once he’s filled his stomach with a generous, greasy lunch and downed his fourth cup of coffee, he doesn’t just become more agreeable, but feels a little more ready to confront this awfully bright and loud world too. Though he’s going to take it easy for the rest of the weekend for sure.

He spares a few thoughts for Harvey, wondering how he’s holding up and if he has more of an idea what happened last night. He hasn’t heard from him, but he may very well still be asleep – hopefully in a bed rather than on the floor though.

 _So, last night was wild huh?_ he texts him on his way home. _Jk, I wouldn’t know. Don’t remember much tbh_

Harvey reads the message right away, so he’s clearly not asleep anymore, but he must be rather out of it, if the time it takes him to respond is any indication.

_You don’t remember what happened? Nothing?_

_Well, I know that we went to your place after the second bar, but from then on it’s all a bit blurry. I feel like it’s coming back to me every now and then, but I can’t really grasp it  
What about you? Any idea what I’m missing out on?_

Again, Harvey takes his time answering.

_Not much. I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.  
We had fun, though. It was nice._

Mike smiles, because that much is obvious. They always have fun together.

_Man, must have been great. I wish I remembered more. But it definitely was fun, even tho I’m paying the price for it now. Are you as hungover as I am?_

_Pretty hungover, yeah. Kudos to you for going to yoga anyway. Did it help, at least?_

_Not in the slightest. I’m proud of me for showing up though. At least we both have tomorrow to recover… you’re not doing anything either, right?_

He was mostly just asking to make conversation, so Harvey’s response is a bit surprising.

_Actually, I have some stuff to catch up on. I’ll probably be busy all weekend._

Being busy has never stopped them from hanging out and doing their own thing in companionable silence before, but since his intention wasn’t to invite himself over anyway, Mike lets it slide.

_Alright, you do that. I’m gonna go home and take a long ass nap ;) See you Monday?_

_Yeah, see you_.

As planned, Mike lies down as soon as he gets home, and once he’s slept off the headache, he allows himself to lounge around and just do nothing for a change. He doesn’t hear from Harvey again, and he wouldn’t have thought much of it if, come Monday, everything had been as usual.

It’s not, though.

Harvey arrives at his regular time, but he’s a lot less talkative, barely responding to Mike’s chatter, if at all. Every time he asks him something he gets a monosyllabic reply, and when he tries to look at his face, he can’t help but feel that he’s avoiding his eyes.

Maybe a bad night’s sleep, Mike thinks and tries not to worry about it. But even two coffees into their rehearsal, the usual warm-up exercises having done a good enough job of waking everyone up, Harvey’s stance doesn’t change.

Mike watches him stick to himself rather than approaching him in between scenes like he usually does, a scowl on his face when he thinks no one is looking that has him worry his lip until he tastes blood.

He can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, not just with Harvey but between them specifically, and yet he has no idea what it could be. Did he do something while they were drunk? Has he said anything that put him in Harvey’s bad graces? Was he too much, too clingy, too… revealing about the feelings he’s been nurturing?

He blanches at the idea that he may have made unwanted advances, not just because making Harvey uncomfortable is the last thing he wants, but because he fears the repercussions it would have for their entire relationship.

He wishes he knew what he did that night – most of it is still a blur of jumbled images that hardly make sense to him, which leaves him to come up with the worst scenarios he can think of.

He should just confront Harvey about it. Straight up ask if he did something to make him avoid him, because he can’t take another day of this weird tension, nor of his mind trying to convince him that he must have fucked up.

When Jessica next calls for a break, he watches Harvey retreat to the corner to grab some water before he approaches him.

“Hey,” he says. Harvey glances up, putting the lid back on his bottle.

“Hi.”

Mike watches him pack the water away, pursing his lips. “So, uh. You alright?”

“Sure. You?”

He’s still not meeting his eyes. Mike nods anyway, hoping it will make him look.

“Recovered from the weekend?”

Harvey clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Mike rubs his neck. “Good, good. Just checking. You know, I… don’t really remember much of what happened, so I just wanna… apologize if I did anything stupid or offended you in some way.”

Harvey’s eyes snap up, finally looking at him properly.

“You didn’t,” he says, and he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to get rid of him anymore, which is a start.

“Alright. Good. Great. It’s just, I was getting a bit of a strange vibe from you, so I thought I’d ask. I don’t want things to be weird between us, especially not because of something I don’t even remember doing.”

He chuckles uneasily, but Harvey doesn’t join in. He regards him quietly, a frown creasing his forehead before he lets out a deep breath and shakes his head.

“Nothing’s weird. I’m just tired today. I’m sorry if I let it out on you. Don’t worry about it.”

Mike nods slowly. “It’s fine. As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with me."

Harvey’s jaw twitches, but it’s over before he knows it, and the smile he offers afterwards is genuine.

“Nothing at all. We’re good. Better than that.”

“Okay. Great.” Mike lets out a relieved breath. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting when he teasingly orders, “Hug?”

Harvey huffs and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too when he pulls him in. His arms close around him naturally, neither reluctant nor hesitant, and Mike shuts his eyes as he inhales his scent, feeling himself relax into the embrace.

They’re alright. Whatever else might be going on with Harvey, at least it doesn’t concern them.

He rests his head on his shoulder, unwilling to part from him just yet, and Harvey is happy to indulge him, only letting go when Jessica calls them to the stage.

Mike steps back, straightening almost comically.

"Keep the sand out of your weapons, keep those actions clear. I'll see you on the beach."

He grins when Harvey actually laughs at that.

“’Saving Private Ryan’?”

“You got it.”

“She’s not _that_ bad.”

“Bad or not, she’s our commanding officer, and we must do as she says,” Mike says dramatically.

“That we must,” Harvey agrees, still amused as he turns to head back to the stage.

“Hey,” Mike calls out, and when Harvey looks over his shoulder he asks, “Whatever it is that’s on your mind, you know you can vent about it anytime you want, right?”

Harvey purses his lips, but then the corner of his mouth lifts as he nods. “I know. Thanks, Mike.”

He doesn’t take him up on that offer, but at least the ice is broken, so Mike isn’t about to complain. Everyone has a bad day sometimes. As long as they’re good, he can deal with that.

When he checks his phone after rehearsals, he finds a message from Rachel with a picture attached that makes him smile as soon as he opens it. He zooms in, staring at the screen as his heart does a little jumble.

He didn’t notice Rachel while they were hugging – he didn’t notice anything besides Harvey, really – but she must have snapped the picture he is now looking at, the two of them seemingly lost to the world. Mike’s cheek is pressed against Harvey’s shoulder, his eyes closed, while Harvey looks down, his arms wrapped around him tightly.

The way they’re holding each other creates an air of intimacy that he wasn’t aware of in the moment, maybe because he’s so used to feeling that way with Harvey, but looking at it from the outside now, it’s undeniable.

 _For your Instagram_ , Rachel captioned it with a winking emoji, and Mike agrees that it’s a perfect snapshot, but not only to post on his account.

Just for himself to look at, too.

*

“That’s a beautiful picture.”

“I know, right?” Mike smiles, taking his phone back to have another look himself, like he hasn’t already committed it to memory. “Rachel captured it perfectly.”

Grammy nods, smiling too. “She sounds like such a lovely young lady.”

“She is. But no, I’m not gonna bring her in to meet you as well, because she’s super busy and you’ll get a chance to say hi to everyone soon enough anyway.”

He secured her ticket for the premiere right away, much to everyone’s delight. Apparently he’s been gushing more about his grandmother than he realized, because they all insisted it was high time they were introduced to her – even Sheila, who he’s been building less of a rapport with than the others.

“By the way, they’re very excited to, and I quote, finally meet you. Rachel and Donna in particular.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual. From what you’ve been telling me, they all sound very nice.”

“They are. Well, they can be real dickheads too, but it’s all in good fun.”

“As it should be,” she says, nodding. “You found a lovely group of people there, Michael. You’re very lucky to have them.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling a little before he sighs. “Kind of sad, isn’t it?”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I’m just realizing more and more the closer we get to opening night that it’s gonna be so hard to say goodbye to everyone.”

“Well, you’ll still be seeing them, won’t you?”

“I mean, I’ll try, but who knows where they’re all going to take a job next? There’s no guarantee any of them will stay here.”

“Or you,” Grammy points out. “Maybe you’ll get another part somewhere else,” she elaborates at his raised eyebrows. Truthfully, Mike didn’t think about that – in his head, this play is still something of an anomaly – but even now he just shakes his head, smiling.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far. Not with you right here in the city. They’ll have to drag me away kicking and screaming.”

“Well, let’s not let it get to that,” Grammy says, amused.

“No, let’s not. But the point is, even if they all stay here, there’s no guarantee we’ll manage to keep in touch. And if we do, it’s still gonna be different, you know?”

He shrugs, shaking his head.

“I’ll miss them, yeah. But I’ll miss the rest of it too. Seeing them almost every day, hanging out all the time, creating something so… special. I’ll miss all of it. It’s never gonna be exactly like it is right now again.”

And he’s not ready for that in the slightest. He’s not ready to let go of it, not when he only just found it.

Grammy gives him a knowing smile.

“That’s what makes it so precious, though, isn’t it? If you could stay where you are forever and nothing ever had to change, you wouldn’t value it half as much as you do now.”

He sighs. “I know. Of course not. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m gonna miss it like hell once it’s over.”

She nods.

“You will. And it’ll be a good thing, because it will prove how much this meant to you. How much it changed you, and grew you.”

He smiles when she puts a hand on his cheek, brushing it with her thumb like she used to do when he was little.

“Just do me a favor, will you? Don’t forget that it isn’t over yet. You’re still right in the middle of it, this very moment. Don’t let that be tainted by moping about how sad you’ll be when it’s over. You’re going to be sad anyway, so I want you to be twice as happy now, to make it really worth it.”

Mike lets out a short laugh. “Alright,” he agrees. “I promise. I’ll only be as sad as I absolutely have to be and save the rest for later.”

“That’s the spirit,” she says, patting his cheek before she drops her hand. “Now, tell me about that book you were reading. Is it worth my time?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” Mike says and launches into an in-depth review of the true crime novel he started this week. But even as they talk and move on to other topics, there’s a part of him that still thinks about what they discussed before.

He never used to have these kinds of problems before, mostly because he never had anything like this play in his life, no one like the people he’s surrounded with now, save for his Grammy.

It still astonishes him how different his life is these days, compared to how it was a year ago. They would have been sitting in a very different place, talking about a completely different group of people making up his social circle.

He can’t begin to imagine how different it’s going to be in another twelve months.

Will it be the same thing then? Is he going to sit there and remember those he calls his friends now, as nothing but an afterthought?

He doesn’t know, of course, but he just can’t see that happening. Because he doesn’t miss the old people, not really. Trevor is the only one he still thinks of, and even that is sporadic at most, whatever feelings he still has for him fading into indifference more and more.

But he’s already missing his new friends, despite the fact that he still gets to see them. He thinks of how much space they’re taking up in his heart, and the idea of that disintegrating into nothingness is absolutely ludicrous. With all of them, but especially when it comes to Harvey.

He represses a sigh and shakes the gloomy thoughts as best as he can. Grammy’s right, it’s not over yet, and crying about it now won’t accomplish anything except give him double the pain. He doesn’t have to say goodbye to Harvey or any of the others for another few weeks. He doesn’t even have to think about it yet.

So he doesn’t, resolutely banning any and all thoughts of the matter to focus on being with his grandmother instead.

When he heads home an hour later, he still finds himself with the overwhelming urge to reach out to Harvey though, and so he texts him, _Grammy sends her regards. She looks forward to seeing you again at the premiere._

_So do I. Tell her I said hi._

_Will do next time I talk to her. On my way home already._

_Not on your bike, I hope?_

Mike snorts. Really, the amount of faith Harvey has in him is staggering.

_Please. Texting and riding a bike at the same time? I don’t have a death wish._

_Thankfully not.  
I was about to order dinner. Wanna come over? We can get pizza._

A smile spreads on his face.

_You know I’m never saying no to pizza._

_And my company doesn’t play into it at all, I take it._

_Not at all, nope. Not one bit._

_Charming. I might as well retract my dinner invitation then._

_Wait!! You know you’re the only one for me, darling <3_

His stomach prickles as he types out the message, and he hits send before he can overthink it.

Harvey’s response only makes it worse.

_As are you, honey. Now be a dear and rush home. I skipped lunch and I’m starving._

He huffs. Home. Ridiculous.

_On my way! Should be there in half an hour. Order ahead please :P You know what I like_

_I do. See you in thirty._

Mike puts his phone away, sighing.

“You’re in trouble,” he mutters to himself and shakes his head. How he always manages to get himself into these situations, he doesn’t know.

At least he’s used to dealing with them by now. He always gets through somehow, it’s just a question of whether or not it’ll be unscathed.

Not that the prospect ever stopped him. He may not have a death wish, but no one ever said anything about self-preservation.

*

The lost memories from their night out never returned to Mike, and at one point he gave up trying to figure out what he’s missing, barely sparing another thought for the matter with rehearsals and the play taking up all the space in his head.

Until they decide to make a grand entrance and come back to him with a bang.

It’s a Wednesday, a rehearsal like any other. They’re knee-deep in act two once again, and the proceedings have come to a momentary halt because Louis has gotten into a fight with Jessica – not of further interest, since it’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last one either. While they work it out, Harvey and Mike are passing the time by discussing the best Star Trek episode (Harvey claims he wins that argument on principle because he’s seen more episodes than Mike and thus has the authority to make that decision) until they’re ready to continue.

“Mike, Harvey,” Jessica instructs, “the dance. From the top, please.”

They get into position, giving each other a brief nod when they’re ready.

Mike rolls his shoulders and prepares for the steps, the dip, and the following kiss; it’s routine by now, the movements having been repeated so many times that they’ve turned into muscle memory, and when they kick the scene off, it’s no different from any other time they’ve done it.

Until the dance concludes, and Harvey dips him, and Mike closes his eyes and awaits the kiss that must be coming any second now.

And promptly rips them open again. Because Harvey isn’t kissing him like he usually is, short and professional and barely deep enough for him to get into it.

His hand slips from his waist to his face, cradling it gently, brushing his skin as he prolongs the kiss that should be ending right about now, but it doesn’t, leading everything inside Mike’s mind to come to a brief but jarring halt.

Harvey is kissing him for real.

Mike knows this, because he’s done it before.

It comes back to him in a rush, the memories flooding him from one second to the next as soon as their lips touch and Harvey’s hand curls around his cheek, and for a moment Mike forgets where he is, forgets that there are people watching them, forgets everything except the kiss happening right now and the other one before, the one he didn’t even know about until this very moment.

He can’t do anything but accept the fact right then and there, and even that is a struggle – anything more is out of the question within the limited timeframe in which Harvey’s lips are touching his.

It’s barely longer than usual, the slight delay probably unnoticeable to anyone else, but it feels endless to him.

And then it’s over, just like that, and Mike goes through the remaining motions on autopilot, hardly knowing where his head is.

Jessica pauses the scene shortly after and asks them to do it again. Mike tries, but barely manages to listen to what she’s saying. Not that he needs to – he knows exactly what went wrong, and when he dares to glance at Harvey, he thinks there’s a flash of something in his eyes before it disappears.

He saw it, though. It was there.

He knows too.

But Harvey offers no acknowledgment that he does, no explanation as to why it happened; he merely does the scene again, exactly like Jessica wants them to, exactly like it always is, and he’s fooling everyone, everyone except Mike.

He just doesn’t get _why_.

Even when he’s home and actually has time to try and figure out what the hell happened, he doesn’t understand any of it. He’s stunned by today’s kiss, stunned by the memory that’s making his cheeks flush and his stomach drop at the same time, stunned by the fact that Harvey is just pretending that neither of them happened.

He said goodbye to him like any other day, perhaps a little faster than he would have otherwise, but showing no real indication that he was avoiding Mike. And yet he left with the whole thing still unspoken, didn’t even acknowledge it.

Why didn’t he say anything?

That’s why he was so weird after that weekend. It must be. He remembered the kiss while Mike didn’t, and he must have regretted it, must have been glad for the chance to pretend it never happened. The mere idea is making Mike sick, but there’s no other explanation that makes sense.

But then why did he kiss him like that today?

Mike wraps his arms around himself, trying to shake the feelings welling up in him at the vivid memory, but to no avail. He didn’t expect it and thus was entirely defenseless against the onslaught of emotions attached to it, and there’s no way Harvey could have known it was going to have that effect on him, but still he can’t help but wonder what on earth possessed him to drop all limitations they decided on and just… kiss him like that.

Actually kiss him, period.

Maybe he just slipped up. But this is Harvey he’s talking about. He’s the epitome of professionalism. He can’t have slipped up. He can’t have.

So what happened?

Running a hand over his face, Mike groans quietly. He is going out of his mind trying to figure out the answers to all the questions circling in his head. He’s been staring at his wall without seeing anything since he got home, hasn’t even changed out of his clothes, and he’s not exactly getting anywhere with this.

There’s a part of him; small, stubborn, persistent, that keeps wondering if Harvey didn’t do it because deep down, he wanted to.

Ridiculous.

But what if that’s it?

What if he _doesn’t_ regret it, and he was so weird about it because he thought Mike wanted it too, but then he felt like he couldn’t bring it up? What if this was a hint, and now the ball is in his court?

He shuts his eyes, rubbing his temple as he lets out a deep breath.

What the hell is he supposed to do with this? Ignore it? Or should he really risk their friendship on a fucking hunch?

Mike is no idiot. He knows all too well that he might be kidding himself into something with no actual foundation other than his own wishful thinking. But he can’t sit around and wonder any longer.

He needs answers.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he gets up and grabs his keys, throwing the door to his apartment shut behind him.

He nearly turns around half a dozen times until he reaches Harvey’s place, but something keeps him going, something that tells him he isn’t too far off with this idea taking root in his mind. Nothing else quite makes sense, after all.

Because either Harvey kissed him like that because he wanted to, or because he fucked up. And no, he doesn’t truly believe he’d go about it this way if he really meant to kiss him, but if it’s the latter, then there must be one hell of a reason that would explain how the mask of professionalism slipped so thoroughly.

He halts when he reaches his destination, his stomach sinking as he looks up the building towering above him. God knows how many hours he’s spent here since the first time Harvey asked him over to tutor him. How many times he’s greeted his doorman, how often he’s fallen asleep on his sofa only to wake up with a blanket draped over him that wasn’t there when he drifted off.

Is that the price he’s going to pay for barging in here to confront him?

This may be one of the biggest mistakes he’s ever going to make. But on the off chance that he isn’t deluding himself, that what he’s feeling for Harvey is actually reciprocated, he just _has_ to find out.

With a deep breath, Mike squares his shoulders and heads into the building. The doorman lets him up with a nod of acknowledgement, not bothering to call ahead and announce him. Mike almost smiles at that, but the impulse fades quickly when he steps out of the elevator and walks down the hall.

Harvey only looks mildly surprised to find him at his door when he knocks, stepping aside to let him in without a word. Mike’s chest tightens as he follows him inside, and he has to swallow a few times before he finds his voice, never mind the right words to start on.

 _This is what you’re putting on the line_ , he thinks. The unspoken understanding. The showing up unannounced, no questions asked. The companionship, the door he knows is always open for him, the doorman letting him up without having to call first. The takeaway, the ridiculously expensive coffee, the Star Trek discussions, the smiles. All those beautiful, involuntary smiles. The laughter. The deep, instinctive certainty in his gut that he’s safe here, no matter what.

The fear of losing that is almost paralyzing, almost enough to make him change his mind. It would have, if the not knowing wasn’t even worse.

There’s no way around this, from whatever angle Mike looks at it. It’s either the rock or the hard place, there is no in between. If he wants answers, then he’s gonna have to take a leap of faith and believe that they are strong enough to get past this if it comes to it.

Harvey is looking at him. Silent. Waiting. Mike thinks there’s a hint of apprehension in his eyes, but that might just be his imagination.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

Where does he even start?

Before he can overthink it, Mike decides to get straight to the point. “You kissed me today.”

Harvey doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all. “Of course I did,” he just says. “What’s your point?”

“No, I mean, _you_ kissed me today. Not Nick. That was you.”

Harvey blinks at him, unmasked for a split second before his expression closes off and he states coolly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 _Oh no, you don’t_.

“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me, Harvey. I’m not an idiot, I know what happened, and I know you know it too. Today was different. You’ve never kissed me like that when we rehearsed before.”

“No, I haven’t,” Harvey agrees. “I improvised. Tried something new. It didn’t work.” He shrugs. “It’s called acting.”

Mike lets out a hollow laugh, the sting of the jab surprisingly sharp. “You can be such a dickhead, you know that? Fuck you. Don’t patronize me like that. I’m well aware of what we’re doing up on that stage. But I know that wasn’t acting, that was you. It was _you_. And you wanna know how I know? Because I remember.”

The brief expression of shock flickering across Harvey’s face gives him a grim, almost perverse sense of joy. If they can’t have a civil conversation, then this is how it’s going to be. If Harvey wants to be defensive and act like a jerk, that’s fine by him. Two can play that game.

“I remember what happened that night,” Mike carries on, watching his reaction closely. He wants to see him give up the pretense and concede, wants him to admit what happened back then and what happened today, he wants to finally get to the truth and clear the air between them because this, this isn’t working anymore. Not now that he knows. There’s too much left unspoken, and they need to say it if they want to move forward.

“I know that we kissed. I know you were into it then, and I know you were into it today too, because you kissed me the exact same way.”

Harvey’s lips are a thin line, his jaw clenching.

“You said you didn’t remember anything.”

“Which was true at the time, but I do now. And I know you, Harvey. You may be able to fool other people, but you can’t fool me. You wanna lie to me again? Try harder next time.”

“You think I _wanna_ lie to you?” he snaps, coming so close that he’s taking up all of Mike’s vision. “You think this- any of this is what I want? Then I hate to break it to you, but you clearly don’t know me as well as you think. I don’t _want_ to lie to you about anything, Mike,” he snarls, sounding disgusted by the mere thought, or maybe the fact that he still did.

“Then why the hell are you? Why can’t we talk about this like we talk about everything else, like fucking adults? What’s so different about this?”

Harvey regards him warily, looking like he wants to speak but can’t get himself to do it. There’s something in his eyes that he can’t make sense of, almost like apprehension, like he’s expecting him to deliver a devastating blow any second.

Fearing that whatever he’s expecting to hear that’s putting that look on his face, he’s going to say it on accident and ruin everything, Mike doesn’t speak at all, instead enduring the almost painful eye contact until Harvey finally breaks it and looks away.

“What do you want me to say, Mike?”

He sounds tired, and the weariness in his eyes makes him stop, his anger dissolving as he tries to work out what’s behind those words, what the hell is going on in Harvey’s head that won’t let him say what he wants to.

Harvey never swallows his words. And he never usually lies to him, and he never slips up like that, and Mike may be putting the pieces together all wrong, but he thinks he knows what all this comes down to. And if finally clearing the air means he has to follow a hunch again, then that’s what he’s going to do.

He’s already made his bed, now he might as well lie in it.

“Do you know why I came here? Why I’m confronting you about this instead of just dropping it? I don’t want to humiliate you, or, or expose you just to have a good laugh. Fuck, Harvey, I- I only brought it up because I wanted to know if I was right. Because I needed to hear you say it.”

He shrugs helplessly, refusing the urge to look away as he lays himself bare. Harvey should see that he isn’t just saying this for the hell of it. He should see it’s costing him something, that he really means it.

“I wanted it to be real. And I wanted you to admit that you wanted it too. So I know I’m not alone in this.”

It must be one of the scariest things he’s ever done, making himself vulnerable like this. He tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, but there’s never usually this much on the line, and the knowledge that it may cost him what he values most is dizzying, to say the least. It doesn’t seem real.

But it is. It might be the realest thing that’s happened to him in a while.

“This,” Harvey repeats tonelessly. “What’s ‘this’?”

So he really has to do all the work, huh?

Mike lets out a frustrated breath, turning around to pace the room, desperately needing some distance between them before he stops and turns back to him.

“You know what this is. Come on, put two and two together. Or have I really hidden it that well?”

He swallows, shaking his head.

“Shit, Harvey, I- I can’t do this. This whole thing. I’m not like you, okay? I’m not an actor. I mean, I act, and I’m good at it, I know that, but I don’t have… I’m not a professional. I can’t… separate it. I feel it all. _I_ feel it. Not Honey, it’s me. I feel it for _you_ , and when you look at me as Nick, I want nothing more than for it to be real, for _me_. And when you kissed me like that today-“

He breaks off, his chest heaving. “I wanted it to be real so badly. It’s fucked up. I should be professional about this, I should be able to keep those things apart no matter what I feel for you when we’re not on that stage, but I can’t. God knows I’ve tried, but I just… can’t.”

He has to swallow again, but the thickness in his throat doesn’t cease. Harvey’s jaw twitches as he regards him, his eyes wild with an emotion that Mike can’t put a name on, but his next words distract him before he can figure it out.

“Then I guess I’m not a professional either.”

Mike blinks. “What-“

“It was real,” Harvey cuts him off, waving his hand. “Of course it was real. I messed up. I let that stupid drunken kiss get into my head and under my skin and I can’t get it out again, no matter what I do. I let my guard down, and now I’m paying the price of being haunted by it every minute of every goddamn day.”

He lifts his shoulders. “But it didn’t start with that kiss. I… Jesus, I think about you all the time. You’re always in my head, constantly, and I’m not even trying to do anything about it anymore because I know it won’t change a thing.” He shakes his head. “I can’t separate it either. I’ve tried, but I can’t. And I’m tired of fighting it.”

Mike stares at him, distantly aware that his mouth is hanging open, but he couldn’t care less about it, not when Harvey just told him that he feels the same way, that all of his pining and the poor attempts at hiding his feelings were in vain.

He feels the same way.

For his part, Harvey still looks too grave in the face of that revelation, but Mike can’t for the life of him understand why with the elation taking hold of him.

The urge to kiss him senseless right then and there is overwhelming, and while Mike doesn’t try to resist it, he paces himself nevertheless, giving Harvey time to react, giving them both the opportunity to really appreciate it this time.

He steps in, closing the distance between them, and now it’s him cradling Harvey’s face in his hands, tracing the soft skin on his cheek and nearly weeping at how precious it feels. He searches his expression, holding his gaze as he waits for permission, and the deep crease on Harvey’s forehead persists, but he shuts his eyes and leans in, and even if it looks like surrender, it’s enough.

This kiss is different. The memories of their first one are still hazy, and the one this morning was equally impalpable with him being too shocked to really process it.

This one isn’t an accident. This one is full to the brim with intent, and Mike can finally let himself focus on nothing but the sensation of Harvey’s lips on his.

And it’s staggering.

They both know they want it this time. They’ve wanted it for a while now, it’s long overdue, and it’s so perfect that he could cry, his hands tightening around Harvey’s face, one of them sliding to his nape as he presses into him, the instinctive urge to get as close as humanly possible taking over him.

Harvey welcomes him, wraps an arm around his waist to pull him in, lets out a quiet sigh as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, demanding access that Mike is all too happy to grant, and it feels like a lifetime passes before it ends, but even so it’s entirely too soon.

They don’t part right away, staying close, breathing in unison, and when Mike finally manages to open his eyes, feeling every one of his heartbeats in his chest, he finds Harvey’s already on him, that same grave look from before in his eyes, tinged with something like pain now.

He lets out a deep breath.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs, like he can’t get himself to speak up. “At least not while we’re still playing these parts.”

Mike’s heart skips a beat before it starts pounding again. It hurts this time.

He swallows, taking a step back to break their embrace. Harvey’s arms fall away at once. He feels the loss of his warmth acutely.

“Why?”

His voice is equally rough, betraying just how affected he was by the kiss, and remorse is written on Harvey’s face clear as day when he says, “Because I don’t wanna lose you.”

Mike frowns, and Harvey shakes his head again, his shoulders lifting.

“You think we’re the first two people this is happening to? I’ve seen it before. It happened to _me_. It’s only natural when you fabricate emotions with someone day after day for months on end. You start to convince yourself that they’re real, but they’re not, and they don’t last. They can’t. It’s just a phase. And I’m not gonna- I can’t risk our friendship for a _fling_. I won’t do that.”

Taking his words in quietly, Mike considers that. Harvey’s reluctance to dive into this headfirst and risk ruining what they have is touching, to say the least, but even the warmth welling up in him at that can’t distract him from the fact that he does have a point.

He swallows and tilts his chin up defiantly.

“Has it ever felt like this before?”

He has no frame of reference, of course, this being his first gig, and part of him is scared to hear what Harvey’s answer is going to be, but he needs to know. He needs to know if, as impossible as it seems, this is just a product of his overactive imagination that will fade in due time, or if there’s a chance that this is different.

Harvey meets his eyes.

“No. It hasn’t.”

Mike’s stomach flutters as he licks his lips.

“Okay. Okay. I mean, what you’re saying makes sense. And obviously this is a first for me, but I don’t think I developed those feelings because of the roles we play. I think I would have developed them anyway, and the play only sped it up.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m inclined to agree, but there’s no way of knowing, is there? Not unless we wait and see what happens once the play is over.” Harvey exhales slowly. “Which brings us to our next problem.”

Mike swallows. “And what’s that?”

“It’s not gonna get any easier after this. Even if these feelings last… once it’s over, we’ll move on to other projects. Time-consuming, taking-up-months-at-a-time projects, probably in different cities on top of it. Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship?”

“No,” Mike mutters. “You?”

Harvey shakes his head. “None that lasted. I wasn’t all that serious about them, granted, but… I don’t know if it would work. I don’t know if it _should_. We’d both have to sacrifice a lot, and I don’t know if either of us could truly be happy like that.”

Mike frowns.

“I think being with you would make me very happy, in whatever way.”

Harvey sighs. “You say that now. Can you promise me that you’ll still feel that way when you haven’t seen me for three months, we rarely get to talk on the phone, and one of us is always so tired that the conversation can’t last longer than a few minutes?”

“If the alternative is not being with you at all, then I think I will, yeah. I’d be willing to give it try, at least.”

“Provided that you still want to, once this is over.”

“Right.”

Harvey searches his face, pursing his lips.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t want this to work, because I’d love nothing more than- I want to be with you just as much as you, believe me. But no matter what we do, it’s never ideal. And the odds aren’t exactly in our favor.”

As much as Mike hates to admit it, he’s right.

“So what do we do?”

Harvey bites his lip, then straightens with a deep breath. “Let’s wait.”

He takes Mike’s hand, fondling it achingly gentle before he laces their fingers together carefully, like he’s aware of every point where their skin touches.

“We finish the play first. Then we figure out what to do. If we still want to do anything, that is.” Mike opens his mouth to protest, but Harvey shakes his head, carrying on, “We can cross that bridge when we get to it. As long as we’re both honest about our feelings, and whether they’ve changed over time…”

He gives him a look, and Mike nods slowly. “Alright, yeah. Promise.”

“Then we’ll find a way.” 

Inhaling deeply, Mike bows his head again.

“Okay. So let’s wait,” he agrees quietly, sounding deflated even to his own ears.

Reaching for his second hand, Harvey caresses it soothingly, his eyes drawn to where they’re touching as he brushes his thumbs over his palms.

Mike for his part watches him, swallowing. Harvey looks up, meeting his eyes, and he doesn’t move an inch when Mike steps in, his breath hitching as he stops just before their lips touch.

Harvey tilts his head to follow where he goes, his eyes dropping to his mouth. Mike inhales deeply, nudging his cheek with his nose, feeling his warmth, and when their lips find each other it’s entirely inevitable, a natural conclusion of something they began long ago without even realizing.

It’s quiet, still, their lips barely moving as they breathe each other in, trying to hold on to the feeling of being connected like this, and it breaks Mike’s heart a little because it’s not going to lead anywhere, it can’t, and they both know it.

He squeezes his eyes shut when they part, burying his face in the crook of Harvey’s neck to stop the treacherous burning.

“We’ll still be friends, right?” he murmurs. “No matter what happens. We’re still friends.”

“Of course we are.”

Mike nods. That’s the whole point, but he can’t leave, can’t go home without having reassured himself of the fact. He straightens with a deep breath once he’s regained his composure, knowing that it’s inescapable and yet feeling in every part of his body that he doesn’t want to go.

His eyes are glued to Harvey like it’s the last time he’s ever going to see him, and in a way it really feels like it is.

He inhales shakily. “Harvey, I…”

“I know,” he says quietly. Mike lets out a frustrated breath. He wants to say something, wants to keep quiet, wants to stay here forever and curl up and hide at the same time, wants to kiss Harvey over and over and erase the memories of the times before so that they won’t torture him, and no matter what comes next, he already knows he’s going to hate it.

“This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.”

Harvey blinks, giving him an incredulous look when he places the words. “Seriously? Brokeback Mountain?”

“It’s a classic,” Mike mutters, and even with the weight on his chest making it hard to breathe he can’t help the small smile on his lips.

“You’re not wrong. It is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.”

“Yeah,” Mike breathes out, and the smile fades as quick as it came when the reality of their situation catches up with him again.

Harvey watches the change come over him, his own smile falling away as well.

“Come here,” he mutters, and Mike lets himself be pulled into his arms willingly, closing his eyes.

It’s so unfair that this is still a safe haven for him, even with all the reasons why it shouldn’t be.

“It’s alright,” Harvey murmurs.

It’s not, but he appreciates that he’s saying it.

Mike digs his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, wishing he had something more solid to hold on to.

“It doesn’t feel like a phase,” he admits.

“No, for me neither.”

“It doesn’t feel like anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“I know. Which is one more reason to try not to ruin it.”

Mike sighs. They stand there with their arms wrapped around each other for an eternity, neither of them wanting to let go.

Eventually Harvey shifts, and Mike drops his arms with a heavy heart, saving himself the pain of being pushed away. This is hard enough as it is.

They look at each other as he takes a step back, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Mike clears his throat, knowing he needs to get out before the stinging in his eyes can turn into anything more. “Alright, well. See you tomorrow, I guess.”

Harvey nods, his lips pinched. “Take care.”

He almost laughs at that.

“Yeah. You too.”

The door shuts quietly behind him once Mike has turned to go. He makes it all the way to the elevator before he stops, leaning against the wall as he closes his eyes.

So much goddamn trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...maybe this [moodboard](https://andthetardis.tumblr.com/post/618823447864344576/larger-than-life-following-his-dream-of-becoming) I made on tumblr will cheer you up?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your heart might break, but the show must go on... especially now that opening night is upon us! Buckle up everyone, it’s showtime.

“So I guess this is it, huh? A week from now, we’ll be up on that stage with hundreds of people watching our every move. Seems slightly unreal that this is happening.”

Mike regards the crew members bustling past them, his eyes narrowed.

It’s an early Monday morning, earlier than they’ve ever rehearsed before, and there’s an underlying grumpiness to every single person he has run into so far, prompting him to retreat to the corner with Harvey and wait there until he’s needed.

“Unfortunately, it is happening.” Harvey downs the rest of his coffee, and something about his expression tells Mike that it wasn’t his first. “Which means that the only thing separating us from opening night now is this particular hell ahead of us.” He raises his cup mockingly. “Welcome to the worst week of your life.”

Mike doubts it can get worse than the one he’s just had – keeping his distance from Harvey when all he wants to do is the exact opposite is hitting him even harder than he thought, and it’s been anything but easy to deal with that on top of his physical exhaustion after rehearsing every day.

When he says as much, Harvey just lets out a dry laugh.

“You think that was bad? Think again, honey. Whatever you’re expecting, believe me, it’ll be worse.”

“That’s very encouraging.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you.”

Mike sighs, pushing himself up from the table he’s sitting on when Jessica calls them into the center. “Well, let’s get this over with then.”

“If only it were that simple,” Harvey mutters darkly. “This isn’t just the worst week you’ll ever live through. It’s also the longest.”

“Come on,” Mike says, patting his back reassuringly. “It can’t be that bad.”

He’s wrong. It is that bad.

In fact, it’s worse.

Of course, having no experiences prior to this one, Mike had no idea what doing ‘at least one full run of the show every day’ would actually entail. It means lights. It means sounds. It means being in costume for a week straight. It means there’s more than one full run pretty much every single day.

They’re at the theater _all_ the time, coming in before sunrise and leaving long after dark, if at all – on day three, Mike nods off on the sofa in Harvey’s dressing room to find the theater already locked when he wakes up, so he just goes back to sleep, grateful to save himself the commute in the morning and get an extra few minutes of rest.

With the amount of time they’re all spending there, the days are blurring into one long stream of images that would have made him stop and stare at any other time, but now he doesn’t even bat an eye at them.

On Tuesday, Mike makes the grave mistake of ignoring the strange sounds coming from the backstage area and promptly walks in on Sheila and Louis getting it on, _again_. Rather than disgusted, all he feels is annoyed though, hissing something less than kind in their general direction as he turns on the spot and stomps the other way. He’s pissed, a little more pissed than being kept from accessing his bag warrants, and he puts it down to how stressful this entire week is before he realizes that the heat in his stomach isn’t anger at all. It’s jealousy.

For a split second he’s afraid that he went and fell in love with Louis or Sheila now too, but quickly discovers upon examining the feeling more closely that he actually envies them.

Because they just keep doing this, giving in to their desire, being together whenever and wherever they want, the consequences be damned. Do they even fear them, or are they so caught up in their happy little bubble that it hasn’t occurred to them at all that it could burst at any moment?

Or maybe they just don’t care.

It seems so easy, so outrageously simple how they just refuse to let anything stop them from being together the way they clearly want to. Why can’t Harvey and he have that? Why does it have to be so goddamn complicated for them?

Mike thinks of the entangled mess of limbs he just caught them in and wants to scream at how unfair it is that he’s being denied that very thing, that he could be out there with Harvey doing just that and all he’s getting is longing looks and brief touches and so much fucking heartache instead.

When he gets back, fully intending to blow off some steam and complain about the audacity of some people on this production, he finds Harvey passed out on the sofa on stage, his lips parted slightly in sleep.

Mike blinks at the sight, then represses a sigh and curls up next to him to get some rest too.

Of course, the long hours and endless repetition that makes everyone fall asleep in the weirdest places if given half the chance aren’t the worst things about tech week by far. It’s a perfect example of Murphy’s Law – everything that could go wrong _does_ go wrong, repeatedly.

The lights turn on and off at random. The music doesn’t start playing when it should. Sheila rips her costume, Mike stumbles and nearly sprains his ankle during the dancing scene, and everyone misses their cue all the damn time. For all the practice they’ve had, knowing the scenes in their sleep, they seem to have reached a point where they’re too close, unable to maintain focus for the entire run of the play.

Since it happens to everyone, they should be more forgiving about it, but instead it only feeds the already aggravated atmosphere every time someone messes up. All of them do, but no one wants to grant the others the same right to make a mistake, nearly throttling whoever dares to interrupt the flow this time. Mike finds himself on the receiving end of three death glares more times than he cares to admit, which in turn makes the mistakes of the others rile him up even more until he’s ready to actually fight someone.

It’s a very unfamiliar and deeply uncomfortable way of working.

Unbelievably, things take a turn for the worse when on Tuesday, Harvey comes in with a sore throat that doesn’t just get worse, but has spread to the entire cast and half the crew by Wednesday afternoon.

This is a normal occurrence, people assure him, but that doesn’t comfort Mike in the slightest at the sight of the whole team battling a full-blown cold mere days before opening night.

The backstage area practically turns into a pharmacy, and Mike is pretty sure that the combination of things they’re all chugging can’t be healthy, but at least it’s doing the trick and keeping them from getting any worse.

Physically, at least. Emotionally is something else entirely.

It gets really, really bad.

On Thursday, Mike walks in on Sheila crying into the blouse she ripped the other day and doesn’t even blink, because he did the same thing earlier with one of Harvey’s shirts. He merely hands her a box of tissues, listens to her vent about Louis driving her crazy and how long it’s been since she talked to her mother, and then goes on to fetch another cup of throat coat for Harvey and him.

None of them know if the herbal tea actually helps their strained vocal chords, but that doesn’t stop them from drinking it obsessively, least of all Louis, who has brought in a voice steamer and frequently clouds up the entire place on top of it.

But all of that is nothing compared to the fighting.

It just does not stop. Everyone is irritable all the time; tired, worked up, and pissed off, and they inevitably clash like clockwork day after day in every combination imaginable.

Fighting with Harvey is by far the worst, though.

They’re doing the dancing scene, or they should be. Mike has tried and failed to fling himself into Harvey’s arms like they practiced for the third time now, and it frustrates him to no end that he can’t get it right, but what frustrates him even more is the clear annoyance in Harvey’s stance. Like he didn’t stumble and almost drop Sheila during last night’s run.

“Again,” Jessica calls out, and Mike shuts his eyes and groans.

“Come on,” Harvey says in what’s probably supposed to be an encouraging tone. It’s anything but. “Just do it.”

“Fuck off,” he snaps. “It’s not like I’m failing on purpose, alright?”

Harvey lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just let go, Mike. I’ve got you.”

He almost laughs at that, because does he? Does he really?

“Oh yeah? Well, what if you don’t?”

Harvey glares at him. “Just trust me. When have I ever let you down?”

Mike huffs. “Just because you haven’t yet doesn’t mean you won’t. I’m at a disadvantage here, Harvey, in case you hadn’t noticed. I _want_ to give it a hundred percent, but if I do and _you_ don’t commit, then I’m the one being dropped to the fucking floor.”

Something flashes in Harvey’s eyes that, under any other circumstances, would have made him recoil, but now only riles him up further.

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” he asks lowly, and the underlying threat makes Mike laugh sharply because he’s always trusted Harvey, from the minute he first saw him, and where the hell has it gotten him?

“I don’t know, should I? What if you let me fall, huh? What if I rely on you and you’re not there to catch me?”

“You know damn well that I will be, Mike. Of course I’ll be there to catch you.”

“Well, maybe if you believed in that yourself then I would, too.”

Harvey takes a step towards him, shaking his head. “And maybe if _you_ were being a fucking adult about this, you’d see that I’m only doing what I’m doing because I’m trying to protect you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna be protected, did you ever think about that? Maybe I don’t wanna be _careful_. Maybe I wanna try something and see where it takes me, fuck the damn consequences.”

He’s distantly aware that this barely qualified as a discussion about the scene before, but they’ve totally lost it now. God knows what the others are getting from this, though he can’t bring himself to really care.

“Maybe I’m happy to take a chance and risk something, because I know if it works out it’ll be more than worth it. Maybe I have enough faith in myself to believe it’ll figure itself out. Maybe-“

“Maybe,” Harvey interrupts, raising his voice now, “you should take off that cloak of self-pity you’re wrapping around yourself and realize that this is bigger than your hurt little feelings, how about that? It’s not always about you. If I let you fall, we both goddamn go down, and I’m trying to stop that from happening the only way I know how. I thought you understood that. I thought- Jesus, Mike, you drive me fucking insane sometimes!”

“Yeah, like that isn’t how you want it. I mean, that would make things so much easier for you if you just stopped giving a shit, wouldn’t it? No more inconveniences, problem solved, we all move on. Just what you said would happen.”

Harvey crosses the distance between them, and Mike half expects him to either hit or, ridiculously, kiss him at any moment. He doesn’t back away.

“Listen,” he growls, “if you think for one second-“

“Enough!” Jessica snaps, clearly running out of patience. “Whatever little dispute you two have going on right now, I’m gonna need you to settle it after this. From the top. Mike, please try to remember what Rachel taught you so we can get the hell on with this.”

“I’ll do my best,” Mike says through his teeth, not taking his eyes off Harvey.

They keep staring at each other, the air tense between them until Harvey turns abruptly, getting back to his spot.

“I’ve got you,” he insists once he’s in position, leaving no room for argument, and despite everything they just said Mike takes a deep breath and nods, picking up where they left off.

It works this time, not as smoothly as it usually does, but it’s good enough for Jessica to let them continue. Maybe she knows she won’t get anything better out of them today.

Having to kiss ‘Nick’ like this is agonizing, and Mike shuts his eyes and tries to block out everything about it, going through the rest of the scene mechanically before fleeing the stage at the first mention of a break.

He almost laughs when he realizes his feet are carrying him to Harvey’s dressing room on instinct, stopping short to head to his own instead. Dropping on the chair once he’s inside, he buries his face in his hands and sighs.

What a mess.

He didn’t mean to lose his temper like that. He didn’t even mean half the stuff he threw at Harvey’s head, and he most certainly didn’t mean to do it in front of every single person working on this production.

Wondering if it was obvious to everyone else that it was only half about the play from the moment it started is a futile exercise. There’s no way people didn’t catch on that there’s something going on between them. Most of them will have put two and two together by now, if not all.

And yet that’s still the least of his problems somehow.

He looks up at the brief knock on his door, followed by Harvey peeking inside.

“Oh, good. I thought you might be asleep.”

“I wish,” Mike mutters.

Harvey regards him quietly. “Can I come in?”

He waves towards the other chair wearily. Harvey closes the door and sits down, clasping his hands together with a deep breath. He’s the first to break the silence.

“Mike…”

He shouldn’t have to be the one to say it. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

“No, I know. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have a go at you, especially not in front of everyone. I’m- it won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about that. And I don’t care if they all know or not. What I do care about is whether you meant those things you said. Is that really how you feel, that I won’t be there to catch you? You think you’re in this alone?”

Mike lets out a deep breath.

“I don’t. Not really,” he amends. “It’s not that I doubt that you have feelings for me. I know you want this too. I just… I wish you hadn’t been so quick to decide that we don’t stand a chance. That you’d had more faith in us.”

Harvey presses his lips together.

“It’s not us I don’t have faith in,” he admits. “It’s me. I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to relationships.”

“Neither do I. It never works. Until it does one day.” Mike attempts a smile, lifting his shoulders. “I think that might be us. I could be wrong, of course. But maybe I’m not.”

“I hope you’re not,” Harvey says, leaning back with a sigh. “Look, I don’t know how to go about this. No matter what we do, it’s always wrong. I just want to do right by you.”

“I know. And I appreciate that, I really do. But god, I just- I hate this. I hate everything about this situation. And then I walk in on Sheila and Louis _again_ , and they’re just so- so unconcerned about everything, doing whatever they want, and I want that too, you know? I wish we could have that. I wish you weren’t so goddamn rational about all this.”

He looks at Harvey’s pained expression, the regret in his eyes, and exhales slowly.

“But I understand why you are. And you’re right, of course. I don’t want to ruin our friendship over this either. It’s just… hard. Knowing that we could be together and instead we’re doing-“ He waves between them- “this.”

Harvey shifts, his forehead creased as he scrutinizes him. Mike yearns to smooth the lines out.

“I’m sorry that it’s been so hard on you. I think I’ve given you the wrong impression. It’s not that I don’t want to fight for this, because I do. I am. This is the only way I know how right now, because as much as I like the occasional risk, this just isn’t one I’m willing to take. Not when it comes to you.”

He takes Mike’s hand between both of his, the warm pressure a slight comfort.

“And once this play is done, if we’re still on the same page, you better believe I’m gonna do everything in my power to make it work. Just so we’re clear, I don’t wanna fall out of- to stop caring about you. I don’t want my feelings to fade. I don’t want this to turn out to be a phase. I hope to god that it lasts, and that you still want it too when all this is over. Because I think we could be good together, you and me.”

He lets out a deep breath, and Mike, rather hung up on what he almost just said, only stares at him.

“This is hard for me too,” he continues. “But we’ll make it through. Together. Just, if you ever feel like this again, tell me, alright? Just talk to me. We may not be together like that, but I’m right here.”

“I know.” Mike clears his throat at the roughness of his voice. “It’s not that I constantly feel this way, it’s just… this week is getting to me.” He sighs. “I underestimated how taxing this whole thing would be.”

Harvey raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in sympathy. “I did try to warn you.”

“And I did not listen. Well, now I know better. I can’t wait for this week to be over. Though,” he adds, “it’s a nice change of pace that everyone’s snapping at each other now instead of just Louis at all of us.”

Harvey lets out a short laugh, and Mike’s heart lifts a little at the sound.

“You’re right about that,” he says. “Balances it out nicely.”

He gets up, holding out his hand. “Come on, before Donna comes snooping under the pretense of looking for us.”

Mike doesn’t need help getting up, but accepts it anyway, lingering a little longer than strictly necessary before he lets go.

People throw them suspicious looks when they return, but quickly lose interest when it becomes clear that they’ve made up. Mike is quite sure they’ve already forgotten about their fight when, just half an hour later, Sheila almost rips a crew member’s head off for messing up his lighting cue and nearly blinding her, and by the time he falls asleep with his head in Harvey’s lap during the ten minute break Jessica calls after that, all is forgiven and forgotten between them as well.

Well, maybe not entirely forgotten, if the protective arm holding him when he wakes up is any indication. But if this is what he gets for it, he can absolutely live with that.

Much in the same fashion, the rest of the week progresses in a blur of irregularly passing time, emotional highs and lows of all kinds, a medicine-induced haze that makes everything seem extremely foggy from a certain point onwards, and the same goddamn scenes over and over until Mike can’t hear it anymore.

“It’ll be different when we’re on stage next week,” Harvey reassures him. “You’ll have forgotten all about this and remember how to enjoy it again.”

Mike doubts it, but he has no choice other than to take his word for it.

It seems impossible, and at times he doesn’t think they’ll make it through, but eventually they reach their last full run and, once everything is to Jessica’s satisfaction, tech week finally comes to an end.

“We’re free?” Mike asks numbly, looking around in disbelief. “It’s really over?”

“Hallelujah,” Louis sighs. Sheila looks like she might burst into tears again, and Mike could hardly blame her.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go home, take a nice, long shower, and then sleep for twelve hours straight,” Harvey announces, rising from his seat. “Can’t say it’s been a pleasure, but it was an honor to live through this hell with all of you.”

“Yeah, I’m outta here too.” Mike jumps up. “See you all on the other side.”

Any plans of getting to his apartment as soon as possible are crossed when Rachel knocks on his dressing room just as he’s about to leave, smiling.

“Hey. Congrats on getting through this week. You must be relieved.”

“You have no idea,” he agrees, reaching for his bag.

“Listen,” she begins, holding up her hands, “I know you’re tired and you just wanna go home, but can you do me a favor? Just one hour of your time, then I’ll let you go. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Mike is pretty sure that whatever she wants from him, he’d rather be asleep right now, but reluctant as he is, he can’t get himself to blow her off.

It’s her puppy eyes that finally do him in.

“Fine,” Mike sighs. “An hour. I can do that.”

She’s right, of course. He doesn’t regret it.

He can see where this is going when they head to the gym together, wondering to himself if there’s a really late class he never knew about, but the place is deserted when they get there, Rachel and him the only two people around as she switches on the lights.

“Grab a mat and take off your shoes,” she instructs, setting her own up in the center of the room rather than at the front.

Doing as he’s told, Mike asks, “We’re doing a private class?”

“Less of a class, more of a session to help you come down after this terrible week. On the house,” Rachel adds, winking.

“That’s… really nice of you,” Mike says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Thank you.”

She just shrugs. “I was there. I saw how it got to you. I figured you could use something to take your mind off things and clear your head.”

Something in her voice makes him listen up, and he bites his lip, torn between wanting to tell her about Harvey and keeping it to himself. Not that it would make a difference; she probably knows anyway.

“Rachel, I…”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts gently. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” She chuckles. “That’s why I didn’t invite Donna along. She would have needled you until you broke. She probably still will at some point, but I thought… not tonight.”

The deep gratitude washing over him startles Mike, who finds himself at a loss for words as he blinks at her and realizes, perhaps for the first time, how much he truly appreciates her friendship.

He considers her offer of not talking, but finds that maybe he does want to get it off his chest. And maybe he should, with someone outside of this whole mess.

“You’re an amazing friend,” he tells her. Rachel smirks.

“I know. Glad you recognize that.”

He huffs, grinning before sobering again. Glancing at her, he worries his lip.

“You know, don’t you?”

“It was pretty hard not to get the picture after that fight you had,” she admits.

He sighs. “I thought as much. I’m… it’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is.” She nudges him gently. “If you wanna tell me the whole story, I’m happy to listen. But if you only want to do some yoga and then go home, that’s fine too. Whatever works for you.”

“Maybe we can do some yoga first,” Mike decides after some consideration. “My back is killing me. I can’t focus on my lovesickness with all that other pain.”

She huffs out a laugh. “No wonder. I saw you sleeping on five different surfaces you definitely should not have slept on this week, and god knows what you were doing when I wasn’t looking.”

“The less said about that, the better,” he mutters.

They sit down on their mats, side by side, and they start their routine, calmly, without much fuss or talking, and Mike didn’t realize how much he needed this until he’s already in the middle of it. His body welcomes the stretches, comforting in their familiarity by now, but not nearly as much as his mind does. He’s been live and hyped up all week, and the pleasant meditative rhythm of the poses finally mutes his thoughts and make everything inside him go quiet. No more turmoil from all the emotions running high, no more lines circling in his head endlessly, no more streams of thought; everything falls away until the only thing left is peace.

Rachel guides him through it quietly, her voice the only sound interrupting the steady rhythm of their breathing, but she’s giving less instructions than she usually does, merely announcing what they’ll do next or pointing out when his posture is off here and there. It occurs to him only afterwards that he simply may not need them as much as he used to anymore.

Weird, that. Feels like yesterday that he first came here, stiff as a plank and deeply uncomfortable, unable to execute the most basic instructions given to him. How far he’s come. It may not always feel like it, but with all the proof he’s seeing, it’s hard not to acknowledge it.

And it feels damn good to do so, actually.

They move on to the final position, really savoring it, until Mike opens his eyes and sits back up because he’s pretty sure he’d fall asleep otherwise.

He’s still tired, but pleasantly so rather than feeling like he’s been run over by a steamroller.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, rolling his neck. “Thank you for this. I had no idea how much I needed it.”

“I’m happy to remind you,” Rachel says, smiling. “Best to leave the baggage of this week behind before we move into the next one.”

“Right. The big day’s ahead,” Mike realizes, knowing that it’s the truth and yet not really understanding it.

Another thing that feels like it started just yesterday. How are they here already? Where did all that time go?

“It is,” Rachel agrees, pulling him from his thoughts before they can start spiraling again. “And you know what? It’s gonna be amazing.”

Mike smiles. “It already is amazing. Everything that’s been happening to me since I joined this production, getting to work with and learn from the best, meeting all these amazing people, taking up yoga…“

She chuckles at that, and he grins before he shakes his head. “It’s been the most outstanding experience of my life. And no matter what comes after this, I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”

“Maybe not. This one isn’t just your first job, it really changed everything for you, didn’t it? Some things always remain special, like your first love or, I don’t know, the day you graduate. Some experiences or people you just don’t forget. They stay in your heart forever.”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, feeling the truth of it in his bones. “I think I’m in love with Harvey,” he blurts out and then stares at her in shock as his own words catch up with him. This is the first time he’s saying it, the first time he allowed himself to even go there in his head, but he doesn’t take it back, couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Rachel doesn’t share his surprise, only smiles kindly as she accepts the confession and waits for the rest.

Mike takes a deep breath. And then he tells her everything.

He didn’t realize how much it was weighing on him to hold it inside until it comes pouring out of him, all the yearning and pain and uncertainty that keeps him up at night, but all the fluttering in his stomach too, the excitement, the sheer elation of kissing Harvey, and knowing that he wants this as much as he does.

Rachel listens to all of it, even though he rambles on for ages until the words finally dry out and the whole mess is spelled out before him.

“This is incredible,” she mutters, shaking her head. “Mike, you’re practically living a Shakespearean romance.”

“I know. No idea how that happened. It isn’t as glorious as you’d think, though.” He sighs. “And who knows how it’s gonna end. Not very Shakespearean if it just… fizzles out.”

“You don’t actually believe that’ll happen, though.”

“No, not at all. In fact, I’d bet money against it. But I guess Harvey doesn’t feel the same way.” He shrugs. “I don’t think he really believes that this will last. He wants it to, I can tell, but he doesn’t have faith that it will. And I get why, because it makes sense to wait and see what happens once we’re not working this intensely together anymore and… inevitably stop being attached at the hip, I suppose. He says he’s had crushes on scene partners before and they all faded, but he also told me that they never felt like this, so… I wish he’d let himself believe that means something. Because I’m sure it does. I know it.”

“Well,” Rachel says, lifting her shoulders, “then I guess you’re just gonna have to believe it hard enough for both of you.”

He huffs, because it sounds so easy when she says it like that.

But maybe it can be. Maybe it is, and him refusing to believe that is the same as Harvey refusing to trust his own emotions.

If he can’t do that, then Mike will do it twice as hard on principle. It’s not the first leap of faith he’s taking, and the prospect of flying is too damn tempting to be scared off by the fall.

“Yeah,” he says, his lips curving upwards as he nods. “I think I can do that.”

They talk for a while longer, about Harvey and the play and Rachel’s next project after ‘Virginia Woolf’, and when they finally part ways and Mike heads home, he feels lighter than he has in ages.

The exhaustion overpowers him quickly, and he climbs into bed right away, neither the play nor his heartache weighing on him that night as peaceful slumber claims him.

*

One good thing about tech week – the only good thing apart from the inevitable bonding between everyone who went through it, as far as Mike is concerned – is that it leaves him so wrung out and desperate for rest that he physically can’t stress about opening night until he’s already on his way to the theater, and even then a dozen other things are diverting his attention from the fluttering in his stomach.

It doesn’t last, of course, but Mike is glad for the distraction occupying him as long as it does. With everything going on around him as the final preparations take place, it’s hard to grasp that any of it is actually real.

It doesn’t fully hit him that he’s about to perform in front of hundreds of people until Jessica gathers everyone on stage, looking at every single one of them before she speaks.

“Well, this is it,” she begins. “The doors will open in a few minutes, and soon the result of our hard work will be revealed. Before it’s taken out of our hands and we let the audience do with it what they will, I just want to express, from the bottom of my heart, how grateful I am to every single one of you for giving so much of yourself to this production.”

The corner of her mouth lifts as she puts a hand over her heart, an almost touching display of sincerity.

“What you’ve created here is nothing short of magical. I’ve had the privilege of working with many talented casts, but there’s something about this small group that is hard to put into words if you haven’t witnessed it yourself.”

She turns to the four of them specifically, and Mike has to blink against the emotions welling up in him when she meets his eyes.

“The play hasn’t just come alive in your hands and on your lips. What you’ve made of it truly is, as they say, larger than life. It’s magnified, it’s outrageous, and it’s absolutely spectacular. All of you bring something to the table that could not be replaced, and I’m deeply grateful to get to tell this story with people as talented as you.”

Looking back to everyone, she shakes her head.

“Of course, your talent wouldn’t get to shine tonight without our incredible crew. I can’t think of a more skilled group of people that I’d want to work with. You’ve done an incredible job, and I’m beyond proud that tonight, we finally get to share with the rest of the world what we’ve created. Thank you, every single one of you.” She smiles, and Mike thinks it’s the most genuine she’s ever looked. “Now the only thing left to say is… break a leg, and blow them all away.”

Some people chuckle, others smile and nod around her. There’s no applause, but it takes nothing from the moment. Mike hangs back as the group dissolves, waiting until Harvey is next to him.

“Please tell me someone recorded that.”

“What, like you can’t remember it?” Harvey asks, amused.

“No, I just want physical proof that this actually happened. That she said all that stuff about us.”

“Of course she did. She’s a hardass, not a cold-blooded machine. She was only so strict with us because she knew we could deliver, and she appreciates that we do.”

“Could have fooled me,” Mike mutters under his breath, partially because he doesn’t want her to overhear it, partially because it still feels wrong to disturb the quiet after her speech.

Despite his efforts, the solemn air surrounding them sadly evaporates as soon as they get backstage.

“If I hear anyone whistling here tonight,” Louis threatens no one in particular, running around the place like a headless chicken looking for god knows what, “there _will_ be broken legs, and not the good kind.”

And with that, the moment is gone. All his nerves return to Mike at once as he remembers that he’s about to be on stage in a matter of minutes, hitting him with full force until he feels dizzy.

He bends over, supporting himself on his knees to steady himself.

“Oh, jesus,” he mutters, taking a shaky breath.

“If you faint now, we’re gonna have to get your substitute in. And you know how I hate working with that guy.”

The sound of Harvey’s voice behind him keeps him from going into a downward spiral, and he straightens, trying to give off a semblance of coolness.

“I’m not fainting,” he negates, hoping that it’s the truth.

Harvey doesn’t look convinced, but lets it slide, instead nudging him with his elbow. “How are we holding up, then?”

“Hm. No panic attacks yet, so I’m counting that as a win.”

 _Yet_ is the operative word here, since the mere thought of the audience filling the theater right this second is making his stomach plummet. His Grammy must be out there too, she’s always early to this sort of thing.

He wonders if she’s going to like the show. Well, obviously she will, if only because he’s in it, but he wonders if she’ll _love_ it. If she’ll be as blown away as he hopes she’ll be. He wants her to be proud so badly, wants to prove to her that he’s doing better now, that he’s doing _well._ That all her efforts with him weren’t in vain.

 _Spiraling again_ , a small part of his brain notes. Like that’s helping in any way.

Harvey lifts an eyebrow when he releases the air through his lips. “Nervous?”

“Obviously I’m nervous, Harvey.”

“Good. There’d be something wrong with you if you weren’t.”

Mike glares at him. “Yeah, that’s not really helpful right now.” He sucks in a deep breath, wondering if he should be feeling as lightheaded as he is. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs, shaking his hands like it’s going to help him get rid of the tension. “Harvey, I’m… having anxiety.”

“You have stage fright,” Harvey corrects, not all that concerned.

“Yeah, same difference. I’m… oh, god. This is, like, really bad. I can’t do this.”

“Of course you can. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He lets out a laugh that sounds a little more hysterical than intended. From the corner of his eye, he can see Sheila and Louis getting ready for their entrance. Is it time already?

“I’ll stop doing that just as soon as I figure out how,” he promises.

Harvey regards him quietly, his lips pursed. He doesn’t seem overly worried about Mike’s panic, which he chooses to take as a good sign.

If Harvey believes in him, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t.

“In boca di lupo.”

He looks up. “What?”

“Apparently that’s what Italian actors say before opening night. It means ‘in the mouth of the wolf’.” Harvey smiles, lifting an eyebrow. “You’re stepping into that tonight. And you’ll come out of it unscathed.”

“Huh. That’s… interesting.”

Not exactly soothing his nerves, but it sounds like the kind of thing Harvey would enjoy.

He glances at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Is that what you’re telling yourself to stay so cool and collected? I mean, how the hell are you this calm? What am I saying. Of course you’re calm. You’re Harvey.”

“I’m not calm,” he disagrees, still smiling. “I’m probably as nervous as you are. Well. Maybe not _quite_ as nervous.”

“Thanks for that,” Mike remarks, rolling his eyes.

Louis and Sheila receive their cue to enter the stage. He swallows as he looks after them, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he thinks it might pop out of it.

“You know, my first play with Jessica after I graduated, I was a mess before going on stage that first time.”

Mike blinks at him. “You were? _You_ were?”

Harvey shrugs. “It’s not something I’m proud of, so don’t peddle it around. The worst part was that I hadn’t anticipated it, so the nerves hit me out of nowhere, leaving me totally unprepared to deal with them.”

“What did you do?”

“I panicked. I thought for sure I was going to have a blackout and would need to look for a different career come morning. And then I got up on that stage, remembered who the hell I was, and crushed it.”

Mike can’t help the short laugh escaping him. “That sounds more like you.”

Harvey chuckles.

“Next time I got on stage, I was still nervous, but I expected it, and I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Because I knew it humbled me. Made sure that I was as focused as I could be on delivering the best performance possible, rather than going out there and messing up because I didn’t take it seriously or thought myself above failure.”

He lifts his shoulders. “Yes, the stage fright is unpleasant. But it’s part of the job, and it serves a purpose. You just gotta face those fears, look them straight in the eye, and do whatever the hell you were gonna do anyway.”

“Yeah,” Mike mutters, taking a deep breath, and it comes a little steadier now, a little easier than before. “Yeah, alright. I think I can do that.”

“I know you can.” He nudges him. “When you think you’re gonna lose it, just focus on me, alright? Only me. Remember, I’ve got you.”

Mike halts at the sense of déjà-vu his words bring with them.

_Hey. Just focus on me. Only me._

He’s said that before. At the audition with Jessica, when Mike was delivering a terrible performance until Harvey stood up and went on that stage with him.

That was so long ago. So much has happened since then. So much has changed, including him.

The Mike back then would have gone out there and failed. He would have blacked out, or messed up his movements, he would have fucked up on principle because deep down, he didn’t really believe he could do it.

This Mike does. And he won’t fail. He’ll go out there and nail it.

The smile spreading on his lips, small as it is, surprises even him. “I know you’ve got me. You always do.”

Because some things haven’t changed. Harvey will still have his back out there. They’re in this together, always have been, and that isn’t about to stop now.

Harvey holds his gaze, and for a second it looks like he wants to say something, but then a crew member signals them to prepare for their cue, and any things that may be left unsaid fall away instantly.

It’s showtime.

“Ready?” Harvey asks.

“No,” Mike mutters, but he’s not even sure if that’s true. He’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

Harvey smiles. “Good. You got this.”

Heading to the entrance of the stage together, he pauses to look at him, so much softness and affection in his smile that, for a moment, it fills him up entirely, leaving no room for fear or doubt.

“Break a leg, honey.”

Mike swallows. “You too,” he gets out, his voice rough.

Harvey turns to go, then stops and looks at him one last time.

“And Mike? Don’t forget to have fun with it.”

He nods, and it’s about all he manages before they receive their cue and his legs carry him on autopilot until he’s out there, on stage, and the show is already in full motion, and there is nothing to do but ride the wave and go along with it.

It kicks off by itself. Mike forgets the people, forgets to be nervous, forgets everything that isn’t the play, progressing at the speed of light as the events unfold, eliciting laughter and quiet gasps from the audience in all the right places, and Mike had no idea how intoxicating it would be to witness those reactions firsthand, to have their play taken out of its bubble and become an interaction, a point of contact with people that, for just shy of two hours, turn into accomplices, into something other than strangers.

Jessica was right, it is magic what they created. It doesn’t fully register that they’ve reached the end until the eerie silence is disturbed by thunderous applause, and Mike only gets one glance at Harvey’s face before he’s pulled back on stage, bowing in a daze.

It only sinks in slowly that this is for him. People are rising out of their seats because of him, because they liked what he did, because he must have touched them somehow.

This is his reward.

He allows himself to really look at the audience for the first time, taking in the sea of faces around him. There’s Rachel, grinning widely, and Donna, and his Grammy between them, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand as she gazes up at him.

It’s the look in her eyes that he gets stuck on. He swallows, grateful that no one’s asking him to speak right now because he’s quite sure he couldn’t.

The four of them gather on stage once they’ve all bowed, and it’s entirely natural when Harvey’s hand finds his as they do the curtain call together, and when he doesn’t let go for a long time afterwards.

Mike wishes he could memorize every detail of this night, every single emotion he feels, and bottle it all up to look at again when he isn’t so dizzy. He leaves the stage at some point, and then they return for another bow when the audience keeps clapping, and even when the applause finally dies down it doesn’t end.

Harvey is right behind him when they get backstage. Their eyes meet, and the next moment they’re moving to hug at the same time until there isn’t an inch of space between them.

“Not bad for your first time around the block, rookie,” Harvey murmurs, his hot breath tickling his ear.

Mike closes his eyes and digs his fingers into his cardigan. “That was amazing, Harvey,” he whispers. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done.”

“It was,” he agrees. “ _You_ were amazing.”

Mike swallows. “I couldn’t have done it without you. None of it.”

“You could have done some of it,” Harvey amends, his smile audible, and it takes all of Mike’s willpower to pull back and look at him, his arms still wrapped around his waist.

“I mean it. I can’t ever repay you for what you did for me, but I’ll be grateful for it for the rest of my life.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have to repay me then. You owe me nothing.” He searches his face, a complicated look coming into his eyes. “Mike, I just want you to know that-“

“I hate to interrupt the moment, but there’s someone who wants to see you, Mike.”

He holds Harvey’s gaze, who smiles and shakes his head before he turns to Donna, accepting a hug from her too.

“Nice work out there,” she murmurs. “They grow up so fast.”

He snorts. “Thanks, Donna.”

She steps aside, and Mike finds his Grammy before him, a beautiful bouquet in her hands.

He grins, holding out his arms.

“Well? Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, stop it. I loved it, darling. Of course I did. It was incredible.”

He’s more than happy to let himself be hugged once more. She’s wearing her best perfume, an equally familiar and touching detail, and he wraps his arms around her and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“I am so proud of you, Michael,” she tells him, for his ears only. “You can’t imagine how proud I am. And I know your parents would be too. You shone up there. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Thank you, Grammy.” He swallows. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you could be here for this. I wanted you to like it so badly, but it seems I needn’t have worried about that.”

He lets go of her, then leans back in to add lowly, “Don’t think I didn’t see those tears you discreetly wiped away afterwards.”

“Hush, or I’m giving these flowers to someone else.”

He accepts the bouquet when she hands it to him, regarding the rich colors in awe.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

She always had a knack for floral arrangements, but this is the first time he finds himself on the receiving end of it rather than helping her pick a color scheme. For some reason, it fills him with more pride than anything she just said to him.

He nods at the second, smaller bouquet she’s holding that he’s only now noticing. “What’s that about?”

“Well, you’re not the only one I came to see, are you?”

With that she walks up to Harvey, who’s been hanging back so far to give them a moment to themselves.

“Edith. It’s wonderful to see you again,” he says, shaking her hand with the most charming smile Mike has ever seen on him. He nearly rolls his eyes despite how fond the scene makes him feel. “I trust that you enjoyed the play?”

“It was marvelous,” she agrees. “Outstanding. You gave a stellar performance, really. Such fun to watch.” She holds out the flowers. “A little something for a job well done.”

Harvey blinks at her. “For me?”

When he glances at Mike, he just grins, giving him an encouraging nod, and Harvey’s gaze lingers on him before he accepts the flowers.

“This is… very sweet of you. Thank you. I’ll take good care of them.”

She nods, holding his gaze. “I know you will.”

Turning back to Mike, she asks, “Now, are you going to introduce me to everyone or do I have to do it myself?”

“Right away, ma’am,” he declares, catching Harvey’s soft smile over her shoulder as he leads her to the rest of the cast and crew. Everyone is rather smitten with her, especially when she compliments them on their great work over and over again, and she sticks around to chat with them for a few minutes before leaving them to it.

Mike sends her off with a kiss on her cheek and watches her go before he turns around, finding Harvey’s eyes on him at once.

He walks over to him, joining him at the table he’s leaning against. Regarding his flowers, he holds his own next to them.

“Look at us. We match.”

“Something tells me that wasn’t an accident.”

“Yeah, no. It definitely wasn’t.”

They glance at each other, then look away. Harvey rubs Mike’s thigh before he lets go, straightening as he asks, “What do you say, wanna do stage door before the afterparty to get the full experience?”

“You bet.” He waves his bouquet around. “I’ll just put these away and get changed. Meet you outside in five?”

Harvey nods. “I’ll wait for you,” he promises.

Mike hurries to his dressing room – getting changed fast is not an issue anymore after months and months of practice – but stops short before he’s even lost his cardigan, staring at his desk.

There’s another bouquet, one that definitely wasn’t there before. It’s about the size of Grammy’s, but the colors are a little different, incidentally complementing hers rather charmingly.

There’s a card, a closer look reveals, and Mike picks it up, his heart pounding as he opens it, not quite daring to expect what his gut is already telling him.

He recognizes the handwriting instantly.

_Mike,_

_even without that memory of yours, you never forget your first. Enjoy every second. You deserve this more than anyone I know._

_Be proud of what you accomplished. I know I am. – Harvey_

Swallowing, Mike traces his name with his fingertip, the words blurring before his eyes, but that’s alright. They’re seared onto his memory already. Maybe it’s the general emotional turmoil of this night, or maybe it’s just because it’s Harvey, but Mike has to sit down for a moment, taking deep breath after deep breath until he regains his composure enough to face the world again.

He can’t stop looking at the flowers, can’t stop touching the card where Harvey put the pen down to write those wonderful lines, and following the urge to capture the beauty of it, he puts Grammy’s and Harvey’s bouquets next to each other, moving the card so the writing is hidden, and snaps a picture, his own smile clearly visible in the reflection of the mirror behind the flowers.

_Feeling loved. Opening night exceeded all expectations. Thanks to everyone who was there to watch. Can’t wait for the next four months! #bringiton_

He posts the picture on his Instagram before changing out of his costume in record time, driven by the intense desire to get back to Harvey as soon as possible.

He’s waiting by the door like he said he would when Mike returns, and he barely leaves him enough time to smile before he practically jumps him, neither willing nor able to fight the urge to get closer to him.

Harvey tumbles a little with the unexpected impact, but his arms tighten around him on instinct, holding him securely, and if Mike had to name his favorite feeling in the whole wide world, this is what he’d describe.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

Harvey chuckles, and Mike presses closer, trying to absorb the little vibrations it’s causing as much as he can. “Liked the flowers, I take it?”

“They’re gorgeous. But that card, it’s-“

He breaks off, shaking his head.

“There’s something I want to say,” he confesses into the crook of Harvey’s neck. “I really want to tell you, but I know you don’t wanna hear it yet, so I won’t.”

He pulls back reluctantly, cupping his cheek just briefly because not touching him is simply impossible.

Harvey swallows as he regards him, nodding in understanding.

“We’ll save it for later,” he agrees, and that’s a promise Mike can definitely live with.

Harvey takes his hand, lifting it to place the gentlest kiss on his wrist. Mike’s breath hitches, transfixed on the point of contact for as long as it lasts.

Rather than letting to entirely, Harvey laces their fingers together when he lowers their hands again.

“First time doing stage door. You must be excited to meet your fans. Ready to go out there?” he asks, and Mike takes a deep breath, squeezing once before they let go on unspoken agreement.

“Let’s do this,” he says, and Harvey opens the door and holds it until he’s right beside him, waiting to step out into the unknown together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tech week is generally known as the worst part of working in theater. My descriptions of the events are heavily based on [this article](https://www.theodysseyonline.com/theater-hellalso-known-tech-week).
> 
> There are several theatrical superstitions, such as saying [“break a leg” instead of “good luck”](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theatrical_superstitions#%22Break_a_leg%22_vs._%22Good_luck%22) or [not whistling](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theatrical_superstitions#Whistling) on/off stage. Both are supposed to bring bad luck, if disregarded.
> 
> Doing stage door after a performance to meet fans and sign stuff or take pictures isn’t something actors are obligated to do, and most of them tend to only do it sporadically, if at all.


	10. Chapter 10

“Get the muffin.”

“ _You_ get the muffin.”

“Oh, I will. I just think you should, too.”

“I’m not getting one just because you don’t want to share yours with me.”

“Aha!” Mike points at Donna, narrowing his eyes. “So you admit that you _do_ want to share it, even though I specifically asked and you assured me you didn’t. Just tell me the truth, you lying muffin thief.”

Harvey lets out a long-suffering sigh. “For god’s sake. You two are children. I never should have introduced you to each other.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with both of us on the rare occasion that you have a spare hour to do with as you please,” Mike remarks.

“Your fake grumpiness isn’t fooling anyone, Harvey,” Donna adds, eyeing the muffin selection as the line moves forward.

“I’m watching you,” Mike hisses at her.

“Believe me, it is very much not fake,” Harvey assures her, even though that’s not entirely true. He turns to Mike. “You know what? You get your muffin, I’ll get one too, and if Donna wants to try it, I’ll give her a piece of mine. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Mike declares, grinning. “You know I can’t afford to share my food. I need all the strength I can get for tonight.”

Harvey rolls his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous. I know for a fact that you have a whole box of those in your dressing room, and I’m willing to bet that half of them will be gone before you set foot on that stage.”

Mike clutches his chest in pretended shock. “Are you saying that I don’t deserve to treat myself?”

“At what point does it stop counting as treating yourself and turn into gluttony?”

He gasps, and Donna snorts. “You two are adorable,” she states. Harvey meets Mike’s eyes before he looks away, neither of them saying anything in response.

He suppresses a sigh.

It’s okay, most of the time. It’s not great, but they’re holding up alright, soldiering on despite the ever-present yearning that’s never quite satisfied, no matter how much time they spend with each other.

But sometimes it’s not okay. Sometimes their eyes catch on each other, or someone says something inconspicuous – having at least a vague idea of what’s going on, Donna would never say anything to pour salt into the wound on purpose – or their hands will brush in passing, and the real extent of their unfulfilled desire hits him with full force.

“So which one should I get?” he asks, changing the subject before the silence grows into a tension Donna will undoubtedly pick up on.

“Banana walnut,” she tells him immediately.

“Well, someone clearly thought about this.”

“I did tell you she was up to something,” Mike cuts in, and when he glances at him, he offers a small smile that makes Harvey’s next breath come a little easier.

A good part of his muffin does in fact find its way to Donna when they grab a table. Harvey shakes his head when she hands him the rest back, breaking it in half and passing one piece on to Mike, who rewards him with a beaming smile.

“I don’t know why you never get your own,” he tells Donna.

“Because then I’d eat all of it. It’s called maintaining a healthy balance.”

“I think it’s called stealing your friends’ food and being ridiculous,” Mike mutters, followed by an indignant yelp of pain when she slaps his arm.

“You had that one coming,” Harvey says dryly when he turns to him, clearly expecting his support.

Donna tears another piece off her muffin, humming as she eats it.

“I can’t help it,” she says, shaking her head. “This place is just too damn good. I know where we’re getting our celebratory treats this time, you know, in case…”

“Stop it,” Harvey cuts her off, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t jinx it.”

“I’m not jinxing anything. I’m just saying, I hear things.”

“Well, _don’t_ say that. Not until it’s official.”

Mike looks between them with a frown. “What? What did I miss? Is there something I don’t know about?”

“None of us know, so don’t worry about it,” Harvey tries to end the conversation, but Mike, of course, isn’t having it.

“Donna? Come on, tell me. Please.”

He can’t believe she’s falling for his pout and the puppy eyes, but despite the warning look he sends her, she begins, “I’m talking about the Tony buzz the play has been generating. Because there’s a lot of it, and for good reason, but Harvey won’t let me bring it up. He’s superstitious like that.”

“I’m not superstitious,” Harvey protests, offended. “I just don’t believe in getting your hopes up prematurely, only to end up disappointed.”

“And also, there’s a tiny, little part inside you that believes talking about it beforehand is going to influence whether you get nominated or not.”

“You know what? Mike was right. You _are_ ridiculous.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mike waves his hand to shut him up. “Let her speak.” He turns to Donna. “You think we’ll get nominated? Do you, like… know something?”

“She does not,” Harvey says, but she talks right over him.

“Well, officially I don’t, but I’m Donna. I know things. There are… whispers.”

“There are?” Mike asks, his eyes wide. Harvey sighs.

“Stop putting bugs in his ear. He’ll be devastated if we don’t get nominated.”

“ _He_ can deal with it,” Mike says, huffing.

“Sure,” Harvey mutters, giving him a canting smile when he narrows his eyes at him.

Donna thankfully does change the subject then, moving on to teasing Mike about a yoga pose he apparently can’t do to save his life, but Harvey knows him well enough to see that he’s still distracted by something, and he can take a wild guess as to what it is.

He can practically hear the wheels turning in his head when they walk home afterwards, having said goodbye to Donna outside the café, and sure enough it doesn’t take a minute for him to begin, “Okay, not trying to jinx anything here, but-“

“For god’s sake,” Harvey groans. “Will you let it go?”

“No, listen, hear me out. I just wanna know if… I mean, do you think we actually stand a chance? That we’ll get nominated, or… you know. Win?”

He glances at Mike, raising his eyebrows. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

“No, I mean, obviously I do. The play is amazing, and people are loving it, but… it’s the Tony Awards, man. Just, how crazy would that be?”

The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts as he remembers that this is still Mike’s first time around the block. They may be nearing the end – not something he particularly wants to think about – but there’s still so much that is new to him, that he hasn’t experienced yet.

“Not as crazy as you seem to think. You know, I don’t like to speculate beforehand because it leads to disappointment more often than not, but chances are actually pretty good that we’re at least getting some recognition, whether we actually win or not.” He nudges him with his elbow. “The reception of the play has been overwhelmingly positive, hasn’t it? It still may not happen, because these things are unpredictable, but it’s entirely possible that it _will_.”

And this is exactly why he doesn’t like thinking about it, because now he desperately wants it to. Not just for him and the rest of the cast and crew, who all poured their heart and soul into this production, but for Mike specifically. Mike, who deserves this more than anyone, who deserves all the good things in the world and never seemed to get them for so goddamn long.

Harvey knows he doesn’t need a Tony Award for this job to be the perfect first play for him, but wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top?

He’s still grateful that he gets to experience all of Mike’s firsts with him, that he’s there to witness the full extent of his emotions as he goes on this journey, but in an ideal world he wouldn’t have been. In an ideal world, Mike would have gotten all this a long time ago.

He deserved better than what he got by a long shot. He deserved a childhood with his parents, untouched by grief, and he deserved to go to Juilliard, and he deserved friends who lifted him up rather than dragging him down, and it makes him so angry sometimes that he never even seemed to realize that, but mostly it just makes him sad.

Mike is so used to having to give up his dreams. It drives Harvey insane that he can’t do more to change that.

Although.

Glancing at Mike from the side, he purses his lips, an idea forming in his head.

He may not be able to do anything about the family he lost, or the friends he had before they met, or undo the events that led to him losing his scholarship.

But maybe he can do something about what comes after this. He firmly believes what he told Mike, what made him decide to let him audition in the first place. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to give you a chance, even if it’s a second one.

Maybe he could pursue someone else to do the same for him.

“When are they announcing the nominations again?” Mike asks, ripping him from his thoughts, and Harvey shakes them off for now, taking a mental note to return to them later.

“Third week of April,” he tells him. “Just don’t go crazy thinking about it until then. The shows require your full attention, remember?”

He’s only teasing him, of course. Mike hardly needs the reminder. He’s been nothing but utterly professional on stage, putting the rest of them who underwent years of training before getting to that point to shame.

Every night, sometimes twice a day, Harvey finds himself looking forward to seeing him in action again. There are countless things he loves about performing, about this stage of a production. As demanding and tiring as it is when the play becomes the very thing he lives and breathes for, taking up most of his time and all of his headspace, as exhilarating is it to be out there in front of the audience every time. And the reactions – the laughter, the shocked silence, the standing ovations after every performance – are immensely rewarding, making every hour of sleep he’s losing in the process worth it.

They used to be his favorite part, those reactions. But now, after seeing Mike look out at the people cheering for them, for _him_ , with that wondrous expression, seeing him having the time of his life, delivering spot-on performances every single day, improving even now as they go along… that’s better than anything else. That’s what he looks forward to most.

Because Mike isn’t just flourishing, he’s glowing. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that this is where he was always meant to be, what he was always supposed to do, and Harvey couldn’t make himself look away if he wanted to, drawn to the vibrancy he radiates like a moth to the proverbial flame.

He huffs, shaking his head at himself. He really has gone soft. Addicted to something he’s inevitably going to lose in one way or another.

Weird, how he doesn’t really care all that much. Self-preservation used to be a lot higher up on his list of priorities than it is now.

He’ll regret letting it get that far at some point, and sooner rather than later. But it’s not like he had much of a say in the matter. Mike just stumbled into his life and changed everything irrevocably, and Harvey couldn’t do anything but let him, powerless against the force he made himself a home in the very fabric of his world with.

Well, he’s there now. Might as well go along with it and enjoy the ride.

Every day they see each other is special, every performance they deliver together, every time Mike’s eyes glint in the spotlight as he looks out on the people with the same disbelief that he had the first night – Harvey appreciates all of it, every second. While he still can.

 _Don’t go there_ , he berates himself. _Just don’t go there yet._

Instead he deliberately focuses on the here and now, all the things he’s going to miss later on, and makes the most of them while they’re still there.

Tonight’s show is another roaring success. They move through the acts like a well-oiled machine, the words never losing their spark despite of how often they’ve said them by now, and he basks in the applause they receive afterwards for endless minutes, Mike’s hand warm and solid in his.

There’s the usual short commotion backstage before everyone heads to their respective dressing room – though Sheila and Louis may be heading to the same one; he tries hard to be unclear on the details and wants it to stay that way, if at all possible.

When he’s changed, he waits for Mike by the exit so they can head out to meet the fans together. Harvey doesn’t usually do this nearly as often, because performing is exhausting and he doesn’t think anyone could blame him for not feeling it sometimes. Mike, however, insists on going out there every night no matter how tired he is, and since Harvey is waiting for him anyway, he might as well do the same.

He definitely doesn’t regret it when he sees how delighted the fans are to see both of them, and if he spends half the time watching Mike interact with them effortlessly, obviously having a blast despite the late hour and the level of noise and the tiredness he can see so clearly up close, that’s no one’s business but his own.

“You’re mad to do this every night and actually enjoy it,” Harvey mutters when they head back inside, shutting the door behind them after a final wave.

“Come on, you’re enjoying it too. And it makes their day when they get a picture with us.”

“You know what makes _my_ day? Finally getting to go home by the end of it.”

“Big talk for the guy who joins me every single time _and_ charms all my fans away. You could leave some for me instead of making everyone swoon over you, you know.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

He winks at him before disappearing in his dressing room, and once he’s grabbed his things he goes to wait in the hall, straightening when Mike emerges again.

“Ready to go?”

“Yup. Your place?”

“You got it.”

Both questions are, strictly speaking, superfluous. They knew they weren’t going separate ways just yet, and they knew they’d end up at Harvey’s apartment too, most likely with Mike spending the night – on the sofa, that is.

It’s been happening a lot. In fact, these days Harvey hardly ever goes home alone anymore. He used to have a very different after-show routine, going out for drinks or to party whenever he wasn’t too exhausted, coming home with a pretty face he picked up along the way whenever the mood struck him.

Mike and he go out for drinks sometimes, but mostly they just head home together, and Harvey finds himself rather enjoying this new routine they developed. He doesn’t miss anything.

It’s not like he could, not with all the space Mike is occupying in his head even when he isn’t with him, though those nights are getting rarer and rarer.

He doesn’t know if Mike is thinking in the same direction or if he just wants to spend time with him, but for Harvey, an almost aching awareness of the passing time is definitely playing into it. They have a few weeks of performances left, but the end is in sight, and Harvey’s done this before a couple of times. He knows how this goes.

It pains him to think about it, and he tries not to linger whenever he does, but fact of the matter is that this whole thing will be over before they know it. Blink once, close his eyes for a second too long, and it’s gone.

The last thing he wants is to look back after this and realize that he didn’t use every opportunity he had to be with Mike while he still could. Even if it’s gonna make things harder for him in the long run.

Shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts, Harvey represses a sigh and unlocks the door, stepping aside to let Mike in.

He strides past him, switching on the lights, and Harvey huffs quietly when he makes his way to the living room, touching the white sculpture they talked about way back in passing. It must have been during their first tutoring session, the second one at most, when Mike was still wide-eyed and so in awe of his apartment. Now he struts around like he owns the place, leaving his jacket on the kitchen counter, his bag on the floor, himself on the sofa in that one spot Harvey has already started referring to as his in his mind.

It’s not that he’s here _all_ the time, but he might as well be, taking up all the empty space so perfectly every time he steps into it. When Harvey closes his eyes, it’s easier to picture the apartment with Mike in it than without him, not because he’s around so often, but because he fills the place with so much life whenever he is.

It’s funny. Even though Harvey leads something of a nomad life, not rarely spending months at a time somewhere else, this is still the place he thinks of as home, the one he returns to and finds shelter in when he needs it. But even so, there was always something missing from it. Something that kept him from settling down fully, that made it feel like a temporary residence rather than a permanent solution.

It’s not missing anymore.

Now, the apartment feels more like home than it ever did before, and when he looks at Mike’s belongings scattered around the place, his socked feet on the carpet, the second glass on the table next to his, he can take a wild guess as to what exactly it is that changed.

“You want a drink?” he asks, kicking Mike’s shoes out of the way as he moves past him. He always leaves them lying around.

“Beer would be nice, yeah,” Mike decides, and Harvey nods, having expected nothing else. He hasn’t gone for the harder stuff since _that_ night.

Another thing Harvey tries not to think about, though it has proven impossible not to. But he can’t go down that road now, not with Mike right there, looking so soft and unguarded on his sofa like he always does after a long day, making it almost impossible not to reach out and touch him.

Removing himself from the situation, Harvey has learned, is often the best – and only – way to stop himself from initiating something he definitely shouldn’t be initiating, so he takes his time grabbing two beers from the fridge before he returns, sitting down with just enough space between them to keep them from touching.

Mike accepts his beer with a grateful smile, and Harvey is glad he remembered to restock his fridge with his favorite brand after they finished it last night. Leaning back, he nips his own drink, trying not to freeze when Mike pulls his knees to his chest, his feet digging into Harvey’s thigh as he gets comfortable.

When removing himself isn’t possible, distraction is the second-best option.

Harvey stretches to reach his phone, his finger tapping against the neck of the bottle as he checks his messages for the first time since he got on stage earlier. When he stops mid-movement, his eyes narrowed at the screen, Mike gives him a little nudge.

“What’s up?”

“Marcus texted.”

“Oh, has he finally decided when he wants to see the play?”

“Apparently. And it’s… early next week. Of course. This is so typical. Couldn’t have told me any sooner to give me some time to prepare.”

“Well, it doesn’t really make a difference, does it?”

When he glances up, Mike shrugs. “You have that spare room, assuming he’ll be staying with you, and you get this place cleaned every Sunday anyway. What else is there to prepare?”

“Not much,” Harvey concedes, sighing. Taking his brother’s actions as a personal attack is all too easy sometimes. “It’s just the same goddamn story it always is. He does this every single time and never fucking listens when I ask him to let me know in advance. It’s not like I’ll have much time that I could spend with him anyway, but it annoys the hell out of me that he just assumes I’ll be at his beck and call. I’ve had to rearrange my schedule several times already because _he_ can’t plan ahead more than a couple of days.”

“Alright, well, better let it out now than when he shows up here,” Mike remarks, and Harvey exhales slowly, shaking his head.

“Sorry. I’m just… tired.”

“Hey, it’s a valid complaint. I just don’t think it’s gonna change anything to get worked up about it.”

“No, that never helps,” Harvey mutters, remembering one too many fights that could have been avoided entirely if they hadn’t lost their temper over something stupid.

Mike presses his heels against Harvey’s leg, lifting his eyebrows with a small smile when he looks at him.

“You have a whole week to calm down before he gets here. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to be civil.”

Harvey huffs, dropping his phone on the cushions. He’ll respond later.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything.”

Without quite thinking about it, his free hand moves to Mike’s ankle, tracing the warm patch of skin between his sock and his pants.

Mike doesn’t say anything, though Harvey thinks he can sense him leaning into the touch, almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to take the hint.

He slides his hand around his foot and digs his thumb into his heel before he can listen to the voice in his head telling him that this is a bad idea, rubbing circles into the firm flesh as he pulls it closer to rest it on his thigh. Mike’s lips part quietly. He still doesn’t speak.

It’s a fine line they’re walking, trying to be discreet while still maintaining the level of closeness they had before, and they don’t always get the balance right.

But Harvey is only human. He can only resist a temptation like this for so long when it’s right in front of him. Who’s going to blame him for that?

“Are you looking forward to seeing him?” Mike asks, breaking the silence. Neither of them acknowledges the point of contact between them. “Or does this whole visit just mean more stress for you?”

“Both, actually. Every time I haven’t seen Marcus for a while, I start convincing myself that maybe this time it’ll be different, you know? That we’ll both have moved on. It hasn’t happened so far, but I guess some part of me still believes that it will one day.” He shrugs. “It’s not that we fight every time, but things could definitely be better between us.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. So who’s coming, exactly? Not your mom, I assume. Is it just your brother then?”

“Him and his family,” Harvey says. “He’s got a wife and two kids. Haven’t seen them in forever. See, that’s one of the things I’d like to prepare for. I wanna get them something, and I’m not exactly well-versed in what kids their age are into these days.”

“I’m sure you can figure that out in a week, old man,” Mike assures him, patting his shoulder with a grin.

“You’re right, but I won’t tell you that, because calling me old isn’t acceptable behavior that I want to encourage.”

“Whatever, grandpa.” He yelps when Harvey presses into his foot a little too hard – entirely by accident – and he merely offers a canting smile in return, swapping his foot for the other one.

The fact that this is the second time Mike is reminding him to be rational tonight because he’s getting overly emotional really says something about his state of mind. It’s usually the other way around. Harvey doesn’t have a tendency to let his emotions get the better of him, but where his family is concerned, that’s another matter altogether.

And Mike, of course.

But maybe those two categories aren’t as different as they seem on first glance. Maybe that’s what Mike has become over the past few weeks, sneaking past all his defenses, carving himself a place inside Harvey’s very core quietly, and maybe that’s not a bad thing at all, only if he doesn’t have a place in Mike’s too.

And if he has – maybe it’s a good thing then. A complicated thing. Scary, and entirely new to him, but so very, very good.

Time will tell. That’s what they need to do; give it more time to see how deep it really runs.

One thing’s clear as day even now though, and that’s the positive effect Mike has on him. He always talks about how much Harvey did for him, but fails to see that it goes both ways. Mike is his perfect counterpart in so many ways – he excites him where Harvey has become indifferent, calms him down when he loses himself in his anger, makes him want to do better, be better, live up to the image of him that Mike has in his head for some reason.

He narrows his eyes when an idea crosses his mind. It’s probably stupid, because Marcus is his problem, he doesn’t need to become Mike’s too, but at the same time… it could be helpful to have a voice of reason with him to prevent this visit from turning into another disaster.

“Would you…” Harvey begins before he can think it through, then hesitates.

“What? Do you want me to help you pick the toys? Because I’ll do it, but only if you promise not to make any jokes about my age.”

“I was actually going to ask if you’d wanna be there when I meet Marcus, but I might just take you up on that offer.”

Mike blinks at him. “You really want me to come?”

“Of course. If you don’t mind, that is. I think it would help having somebody else with me.”

“But wouldn’t that- I mean… forget it. I’d love to come with you, of course.”

“What is it? What were you going to say?”

“It’s not important.”

“No, it is. It is important.” He can make an educated guess, but it’s not the fact that Mike has doubts, it’s that he feels like he can’t express them that bothers him. “We can talk about these things, Mike. In fact, I think we should.”

His hand moves to his ankle, squeezing it gently, and Mike gives in with a sigh. “I’m just wondering what kind of impression that’s going to make. You know, about you and me.”

“I mean, we do work together. We’re friends. What kind of impression do you think it’s gonna make?”

Mike lets out a deep breath. “Does he know about you? Not being straight, I mean.”

“Hm. I’m not sure, actually. I never officially came out to him as bi, never had a male partner to introduce either, but… he might know from when we were teenagers. Or he read something about the company I’ve kept on those Broadway gossip websites. I have no idea if he keeps up with that stuff. Maybe Katie does.”

“Katie?”

“His wife. My point is, even if he doesn’t know, that’s not gonna be an issue. I don’t care if he finds out, and I’m pretty sure one of his buddies is gay, so he shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“And _you_ don’t have a problem with him knowing that it’s… me. I mean, that you and I are- whatever the hell we are.”

“Of course not,” Harvey says, frowning. “Why would you think that?”

“I just thought you may not want to showcase it in case- well. You know. Things go south.”

“We’re not showcasing anything. It’s my brother and his family, no one else. And even if other people knew, it doesn’t concern anyone except you and me.”

“Right. Well, if you’re not worried about that… I’d really like to meet him, actually. And if it helps you to have me there, even better.”

“It would. I always feel better when you’re around.”

Mike stares at him, swallowing.

“Harvey…”

The tone of his voice breaks the spell. Harvey looks away, shaking his head.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just-“

“I know.”

Mike lets out a frustrated sigh. Harvey glances at him, and their eyes meet for a painfully prolonged moment before they both look away again. Mike withdraws his foot to bring some distance between them, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, it’s hard when we’re not supposed to- it’s too much sometimes. I can’t…”

“Don’t apologize,” Harvey says softly, because none of this is his fault. If anything, they’re both to blame. “I know it’s… not easy. It’s no different for me, you know,” he admits. “Let’s just… move on. Another beer?” he asks, and Mike nods even though neither of them has finished their first bottle yet.

Harvey escapes to the kitchen, trying to clear his head as he swallows a sigh.

Back to removing himself from the situation it is.

*

“Are you nervous?”

“About what?” Harvey asks, though he has a pretty good idea of what Mike is talking about.

“Seeing your brother. Performing in front of him. Spending time with him afterwards. Take your pick.”

“Not really.” Not nervous as much as apprehensive. He catches Mike’s doubtful look in the mirror and sighs. “I don’t know, it’s just… weird. Seeing him again after such a long time. It always is, and there’s usually about a fifty percent chance that our reunion ends in an argument, which doesn’t exactly help. It’s not that I _want_ to fight with him, but you know how it is. It just happens.”

Mike drops the stress toy he’s been fondling, smiling when he steps behind him and meets his eyes in the reflection.

“Hey, you’ll get through this. It’s just one night, and I’ll be there to offer emotional support from the sidelines.”

“I know. And I appreciate it.”

Mike smiles a little, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Harvey covers it, holding his gaze before he lets go and it falls away.

“Have they made up their mind on where they’ll be staying?” Mike asks, turning to pace the length of his dressing room again. He has a tendency to do this before a show. He doesn’t like to sit still when they’re about to go on stage.

“They booked a hotel. Thankfully.”

“Ah, see? Less time for someone to start a fight. It’s all working itself out.”

“I wish I had your confidence in the matter,” Harvey mutters. He checks the time on his phone, then looks up to follow his steps with his eyes.

“Mike?”

“Hm?”

“We need to be ready for make-up in five minutes.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I still haven’t changed.”

Mike blinks at him, then stops in his tracks when he catches up with what he’s saying. “Right. I’m just gonna…” He waves his hands indiscernibly, not meeting his eyes as he heads towards the door.

“Yeah,” Harvey agrees, half amused, half regretful.

It’s weird to suddenly be bashful around each other after how open they’ve been since the first day of rehearsals. But Harvey, for his part, finds himself thinking about the glimpses of Mike’s body he’s caught over time a lot more often than he should. There’s no need to make it any harder than it already is.

He changes into his costume quickly and has his make-up done before retreating one last time, getting into the right headspace for the show ahead. Without thinking about the fact that his brother will be there to watch it.

Luckily, Harvey is an expert at blocking out anything that could hinder his artistic process at this point. The show goes over smoothly, and the resulting high gives him the boost he needs to greet his brother and his wife without letting any apprehension dampen his enthusiasm.

They’re standing outside the theater where Harvey told them to wait, and Marcus grins when he sees him, opening his arms for a short but firm embrace.

“Harvey! Good to see you up close. Great performance back there, man. One of your best, I think.”

“Thanks, Marcus. I’m glad you liked it.”

He turns to his sister-in-law to hug her too, leaving a kiss on her cheek.

“Katie. You look great.”

She chuckles. “Thanks, Harvey. Marcus is right. I haven’t seen a play this good in forever.”

He bows his head. “I’m happy you enjoyed it so much. It’s always great to share that with the audience after all those rehearsals. Did you have a good trip here?”

“Took a bit longer than we anticipated, but it was alright.”

Harvey nods. “Where did you leave the kids, then?”

“The hotel we’re staying at has a babysitting service. Thank god, considering how incredibly not PG-13 that play was.”

“I told you it wasn’t suitable for children.”

“Absolutely not,” Katie agrees, her eyes wide as she shakes her head. “They say hi, though, and they very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow for brunch.”

“As do I. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen them.”

Katie smiles and looks away while Marcus shifts, sucking in his lip. A silence forms between them that has Harvey resisting the urge to groan. He didn’t expect things to get awkward so fast.

“Are you ready to go?” Marcus asks into the short pause before it can grow into something that needs to be addressed.

The door opens behind them, and a smile grows on Harvey’s lips when he glances over his shoulder. Perfect timing.

“Actually, there’s someone I wanna introduce you to before we leave.” He waves Mike over, who joins them with an excited grin.

“Mike, this is Marcus and Katie. Marcus and Katie, Mike.”

“Hey, guys! How’s it going?”

“Wow. Hey, good to meet you,” Marcus says, shaking his hand. “Great show.”

“You liked it?” Mike asks, beaming, and Katie nods when he greets her as well.

“It was amazing. I want to say that you were my favorite part, but it was just an incredible experience from start to finish. All four of you did such an amazing job.”

“Thank you so much. It’s so nice you got a chance to see the play!”

“Definitely! It took us a while to figure out a date, so I’m glad we managed to squeeze it in,” Katie agrees. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this!”

“Well, it’s a good thing it all worked out then,” Mike says, giving Harvey a pointed glance.

“It always does.” Marcus waves his hand. “I’d say we better use the time we have, though. Say, do you wanna join us for a drink?”

Harvey exchanges a small smile with Mike, who nods at once. “Sure, I’d love to! There’s a great place nearby that isn’t actually overcrowded, if you didn’t have anything specific in mind?”

“Sounds great. Let’s go,” Marcus decides, clapping his hands together.

Katie smiles. “Alright, well, you boys have a good time.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I gotta get back to the kids,” she explains with an apologetic smile. “And it’s been a long day, so I’m not all that opposed to getting a full night’s sleep. I’ll see you at brunch tomorrow, though.”

Turning to Mike, she shakes his hand again. “It’s been lovely meeting you!”

They say their goodbyes before they head to the bar, Marcus complaining about a guy at the airport who tried to pass some of his luggage on to him the entire time.

The place Mike suggested is one they’ve been to before, all four members of the cast along with Donna and Rachel. It was the first time Harvey had a lengthy conversation with Sheila, and the first time Mike joked around with Louis without looking like he feared for his life afterwards.

The memory makes him smile, and he realizes what a great night that was as he relives it once more. It feels like a lifetime ago now, early on in the rehearsing process as it was, but he’s glad Mike chose this bar. It makes him feel a little more at ease.

Mike smiles at him when they sit down, and he thinks that maybe that was his plan all along.

Once they have their drinks, Harvey takes a sip and leans back.

“So, who did you leave in charge while you’re gone? Is it Gina?” He frowns. “Is she still there?”

“No, she quit about a year ago. Gwen took her place, and she’s been doing a decent job of it so far, so I left her in charge to see if she can handle it. You know, for future reference.”

Harvey doesn’t remember who Gwen is or if he ever met her, but he nods anyway. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Left her in charge of what?” Mike wants to know.

“My restaurant.”

“No way! You own a restaurant? What kind of food do you serve?”

Harvey snorts. “Of course that’s your first question.”

“Well, obviously. You never told me your brother runs a restaurant. Were you ever gonna bring that up, hm?”

“What for? It’s not like I could have just taken you there. Because of the distance,” he adds to clarify. Mike meets his eyes before he picks up his drink and looks away, the ice cubes suddenly requiring his full attention.

“We mostly do Italian food,” Marcus explains, either having missed the moment or choosing to ignore it. “I got my hands on two chefs from Italy when we first opened, so that kinda stuck. It’s been working out well for us though, and I mean, who doesn’t like Italian?”

“I love Italian,” Mike agrees, kicking Harvey under the table when he opens his mouth like he knows exactly what he was going to say about his love for any kind of food. “So you like, actually cook and stuff?”

“Well, sometimes. I mostly take care of managing the place, making sure the daily operations are in order and stuff like that. But when we have a busy night, I do help out in the kitchen.”

“You must be a better cook than Harvey then.”

“Excuse me?” Harvey lifts his eyebrows. “I take the time out of my busy schedule to cook for you and this is what I get for it?”

Marcus huffs. “What are you complaining about? He’s right. I mean, your food is decent, but not in a way that makes you go, I sure am in the mood for Harvey’s cooking tonight.”

“What makes you so sure I haven’t improved? You haven’t eaten anything I’ve made in a decade.”

Marcus puts down his drink with a little more force than necessary.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

Harvey blinks, his shoulders tensing reflexively.

Here they are then. He didn’t think it would happen so soon, but it looks like they’ve reached that point of the night already.

“Well, no matter how bad Harvey is at cooking, I can assure you that I’m worse,” Mike breaks the silence before he can say anything in return. “This is incredibly embarrassing for me to admit, but I actually can’t cook anything other than one dish my grandmother taught me.”

Even as he distracts Marcus with his story, his hand finds Harvey’s beneath the table, giving it a short but firm squeeze. He swallows, clenching his jaw, but allows himself to let go of the sudden flash of anger without acting on it.

He wraps his hand around his drink when Mike lets go of him, in need of something else to hold on to.

“Well, I’m glad my kids are more teachable in that regard,” Marcus is saying when he can make himself focus on the conversation again. “They love being in the kitchen. Katie has to fight for the right to cook dinner sometimes.”

“You have two, right? A boy and a girl?”

“That’s right. Seven and nine, they are. Still hard to believe how fast time is flying.”

“Feels like yesterday that you told me you were gonna be a dad,” Harvey agrees. It still fascinates him how differently their lives turned out, that Marcus started a family so soon while Harvey, always focused on his work, still doesn’t know if he even wants that. “I look forward to seeing them tomorrow. They must have grown so much.”

“They have.” Marcus regards him, his lips pinched. “They ask about you, you know. Wanna know why you never visit.”

Harvey’s grip tightens around his drink. “I told you, I’d be more than happy to explain the situation to them.”

“And _I_ told _you_ , I’m not letting you do that. They’re kids, Harvey, for fuck’s sake.”

“What, you think I’d tell them the uncensored version of what their grandmother did to break up our family? What kind of asshole do you take me for? Besides, they’re not that young anymore. If you think they don’t notice something’s going on with their family anyway, I can assure you, I certainly did when I was their age.”

Marcus shakes his head as he stares at him. “I can’t fucking believe you sometimes.”

Harvey sits up, because letting it slide twice in one night is just too much to ask, but before he can say something he’d probably regret later, Mike finishes the rest of his scotch and puts his glass down soundly.

“Okay, now that we got that out of the way, anyone up for another drink?”

Marcus blinks, deflating as he turns to Mike. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in our family drama.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I don’t get any of that of my own, so this is kind of entertaining. I’m an orphan, you know.”

“Shit,” Marcus curses. “Sorry to hear that, man. What happened?”

Harvey raises his eyebrows, but Mike clearly doesn’t mind the insensitive question – on the contrary, he seems to welcome it. It’s a bold move to play the orphan card, but clearly, it’s working.

Both Harvey and Marcus fall silent as he tells the story of his childhood, and by the time he’s done they exchange a look, both letting out a deep breath.

“Jesus. And here we are, fighting about stuff from decades ago,” Marcus mutters. “At least we have a family to fight with, huh?”

“Marcus,” Harvey chastises him, but Mike brushes his ankle beneath the table, signaling him that it’s fine, so he lets it go.

He does have a point, in a way.

And from then on, it gets better. Having put the age-old tension between them aside – if not for good, then at least for the moment – they find other things to talk about, things that remind Harvey of a time before every interaction they had was tainted by the elephant in the room in the distinct shape of their mother’s affair.

Mike and Marcus team up against him to make fun of his fondness of Star Trek, which he pretends to be affronted by but doesn’t really mind so much, and Mike wants to know all about the restaurant, leading to Marcus telling him more about his life than he has in years. Even without Mike as a buffer, the two of them manage to hold an actual conversation without any subtle or not so subtle jabs at each other, and it’s… nice. It’s really, really nice.

Marcus and Mike getting along is nice too, for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely, at least not here, not now. He tells himself to stop thinking so damn much and just enjoy the moment while it lasts, and with all of them making an effort, it actually works.

Their second round of drinks is gone before they know it, and Harvey isn’t the only one who’s surprised when he checks the time.

Marcus glances at his phone, then lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s late, but… should we get another?”

Harvey looks at Mike, who stifled a yawn twice in the last ten minutes.

“I think it’s best if we all get some rest, actually. It’s been a long day.”

“No, yeah, you’re right. Hey, Mike, we’re having brunch together tomorrow. Do you wanna come along?”

Mike throws him a quick glance before he looks back to Marcus. “I mean, if you don’t mind then I’d love to.”

“Nonsense. The kids are gonna be excited, and I’m sure Katie would love to get to know you a little better too.”

“Aren’t you seeing your grandmother tomorrow?” Harvey asks, but Mike just shrugs.

“Yeah, but I can just drop by the home in the afternoon. It’s no big deal.”

“Well, great! That settles it. Harvey, you text him the address of our hotel and then we’ll see you there at, say, eleven?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harvey agrees, meeting Mike’s eyes briefly before they both look away.

They say their goodbyes, waiting until Marcus has rounded the corner.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Harvey tells him once he’s gone. “I can make up an excuse for you.”

“It’s fine, Harvey. I wanna come. Unless you don’t want me to, of course.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Only if you stop being ridiculous too.”

“Fine.” He huffs. “It’ll be easier tomorrow. The kids help make things less tense.”

“I thought today went alright too,” Mike says, shrugging. “I was fully prepared to have to mediate an actual fight, but you two really held it together save for that one moment.”

“It went pretty well, all things considered.” He glances at Mike, then says, “I think it’s best if you stay over tonight. My place is closer to the hotel, you can save yourself the trip.”

“No, yeah, I thought so too.”

“Good.”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees. Their eyes linger on each other before Harvey turns to lead the way.

“They might notice I’m wearing the same clothes,” Mike points out.

Harvey shrugs. “I doubt it. And if they do, let them. I don’t care if they know or think they know something. We’ve got nothing to hide.”

“No.” Mike shakes his head, and maybe it’s just his imagination but he thinks that he hears a tinge of sadness in his voice, something that sounds like defeat. “We really don’t.”

He stifles a sigh, because that should be a good thing, but he knows neither of them can believe that.

They walk side by side, the cool night air a pleasant contrast to the stuffy, loud bar they just left.

“You’re still not happy, though,” Mike breaks the silence.

“Hm?”

“You said it went pretty well, but you still don’t seem… content.”

“I don’t know,” Harvey says after a moment of consideration. “It’s… you know, it wasn’t bad, but it still- it’s not what it should be. What it could. I just… I wish I hadn’t unlearned how to talk to my own brother at some point along the way.”

Mike listens silently. “Do you think it’s something you can relearn?”

“You know, I wanna say yes, if both of us really put in an effort, but honestly? I don’t know, and I don’t think I’ll ever find out.”

Mike glances at him, but doesn’t speak, and Harvey takes the crisp air into his lungs with deep breath after deep breath, not sure if the words on the tip of his tongue will leave his mouth or stay inside where they’ve been hidden for so long.

But this is Mike he’s talking to. There’s only one way for this to go, really.

“He got sick. Twice, actually. It looked really bad for a while, and I didn’t even- I had no idea at the time. Only found out afterwards, when he was already getting better. We weren’t really talking back then, and he didn’t think it necessary to tell me. Said it was my own fault when I asked him about it.”

“Shit, Harvey,” Mike curses under his breath. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “It was. We never talked about it again, but I don’t know if he ever forgave me for it. And I get it, I- but we weren’t really in touch at the time. I told him that was down to both of us, but he was… it never led anywhere, so we dropped it. It’s…”

He trails off when he doesn’t find the right ending to that sentence, but Mike nods like he gets it anyway.

“You still feel guilty about that.”

It’s not a question, and it doesn’t require an answer, but Harvey makes himself nod anyway, because he’s never talked about this with anyone, not even the therapist he used to see, and it’s only right for Mike to be the first one to hear it.

“I do, yeah. But it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? It’s so much bigger than that. I regret that we didn’t talk at the time, but I don’t regret what I did to cause that. If I had to do it all over again, tell my father about the affair and ruin everything, I would. Does that make me a bad person, knowing what it would lead to? Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just something I have to live with. As does Marcus.” He huffs out a humorless laugh. “No wonder our relationship is strained.”

Mike exhales deeply, his lips pinched.

“It wasn’t your fault, Harvey.”

Of course he’d say that. Not because he likes to overlook Harvey’s shortcomings – he doesn’t, as several incidents during rehearsals have proven – but because he’s a lot more willing to see the good in him than other people ever were, because he’s always looking for it, in places that even Harvey didn’t think of.

It almost makes him chuckle.

“It was partially my fault,” he points out.

Mike shakes his head. “That you weren’t in touch, maybe. That’s up for debate. But that your family fell apart, that wasn’t your fault. Not in any way. And that’s a fact that I won’t argue about.”

The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts despite himself.

“You’re a lot more forgiving than certain others that were involved,” he jokes lightly. Mike doesn’t smile.

“I’m not forgiving. There’s nothing _to_ forgive. You did nothing wrong, Harvey. It was the only thing you could live with, and I don’t think it’s fair to blame you for doing what you had to do to make it through that. Not to mention that your dad deserved to know the truth. I mean, I would have wanted to know, if it had been me. I’m sure you would have too. I can’t speak for Marcus, but that counts for something, doesn’t it? That has to tell you that what you did can’t have been all wrong.”

“It wasn’t. I don’t think it was. But things are rarely black and white.”

“They aren’t,” Mike agrees quietly. Harvey glances at him, wondering if he’s thinking about the same thing he is.

If so, he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he brushes him with his elbow, lingering a little longer than strictly necessary. “But that just means you can’t take all the blame for what happened afterwards either.”

He leans into him, seeking to reassure him as much as he wants to feel his warmth. “I don’t.”

“Good. Then start acting like it,” Mike teases, and he huffs, shaking his head despite his smile.

They reach Harvey’s apartment in silence. The doorman nods at them when they enter the building. Harvey wonders what _he_ thinks they’re doing up there, why Mike comes at night and leaves in the mornings so often, why he shows up here almost every day. If he thinks they’re together. If he thinks about them at all.

Harvey switches on the lights once they’re inside, dropping his keys as he turns to him.

“The offer still stands, you know. The guest room is yours if you want it.”

Mike just smiles.

“I’m fine on the sofa, but thanks.”

Same answer as every time.

“Make some space then. We’re watching Star Trek before we go to bed, and I won’t hear another word about it.”

“Yay,” Mike mutters, but Harvey knows he’s smiling without having to look.

They pick up where they left off, a cup of tea before them and a blanket draped over their legs. It’s not that cold, but Harvey isn’t opposed to some extra warmth, nor to the excuse to sit a little closer together.

Tonight is an exception in many ways. They can indulge a little this one time.

The episode they’re on is one of Harvey’s favorites. Mike watches without making many comments, which means that he likes it and doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying as much.

When he does speak, it has nothing to do with the episode playing in the background.

“Harvey?”

He turns to him. “Hm?”

“You’re not a bad person. You’re the opposite. Leaving aside my Grammy, you’re probably the best person I’ve ever known.”

It hits him out of nowhere every time. He should be used to it by now, because Mike always does this, always wears his heart on his sleeve, saying the things he wants to say even when he shouldn’t, but it gets Harvey every single time.

He swallows as he holds Mike’s gaze, open and vulnerable and so adorably stubborn, like he expects Harvey to fight him on the matter.

Harvey doesn’t want to fight him. More than anything in this world, he wants to kiss him.

They’re close, so close, both of them leaning against the backrest, facing each other, inches apart at most, and it’s like he’s watching from an outside perspective as they move towards each other, like it isn’t within their power to stop.

And this is where Harvey would draw the line under any other circumstances, but god, it’s so late. So much happened today, and they’re exhausted, and a little tipsy, and Harvey couldn’t withstand the temptation if he wanted to.

And he doesn’t. It’s unbelievable how much he doesn’t want that.

His forehead rests against Mike’s. His eyes are closed now, the rise and fall of his chest slow and deep, and Harvey closes them too, his lips parting as he just listens, taking Mike’s scent in, his warmth, the sound of his breathing.

His nose nudges his cheek, and Mike turns his head the slightest bit, incredibly innocent, incredibly bold.

They kiss. And it’s so goddamn _right_. Tender, slow, the most natural thing in the world; the only way this could have ended. It feels like the final puzzle piece slotting into place. Like coming home.

Mike’s mouth is so soft and inviting, welcoming him back after too long apart, and it’s been far too long indeed, it’s been a lifetime since they did this. Why? He can’t remember now, and it doesn’t matter anyway, not when Mike is right here, the perfect warm pressure against his lips.

Just a little indulgence. Just this one time. Where’s the harm in that?

Maybe Mike remembers what Harvey can’t. When the kiss stops, he doesn’t go back for another, and even though there’s nothing he’d want more, Harvey wills himself to let this be enough.

He blinks his eyes open, finding Mike’s gaze already on him. They look at each other, and it’s so clear all of a sudden, so painfully obvious.

“Mike, I…”

His chest heaves as he bites his lip, the look he’s giving him something between wistful and pleading, enough to stop him from voicing what he feels.

“We’re not saying it,” he breathes out.

“No,” Harvey agrees. He could say it, easily so, but there’s a reason why they shouldn’t, even if it seems ridiculously small right now. “We aren’t.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, he leans back against the sofa, taking a deep breath when Mike sinks against him. The TV plays on in the background, but he doubts either of them is watching. The warmth of his body draped around him is too comfortable, making it impossible to focus on anything but his slow breathing and the familiar scent Harvey keeps coming back to. When he finds himself drifting off, he’s in no state of mind to deny himself that simple pleasure.

The next time he wakes up, it’s half past three in the morning and he gradually becomes aware of Mike’s cheek pressed against his shoulder, every one of his deep breaths audible in the quiet room. He blinks, trying not to move as he glances at him, but he’s fast asleep, and Harvey is a little too cozy right now to care about the fact that he’s going to regret this in the morning.

But that’s later. This is now, and Mike is right there, a warm and comfortable weight holding him in place, wondrously and heartbreakingly close and Harvey has _yearned_ for this. He couldn’t bring himself to give it up now even if he wanted to.

Slowly, he lifts his arm to wrap it around Mike and pull him closer, allowing them both a more restful position. Mike lets out a quiet sigh, and Harvey watches the angles of his face in the dim light of the room before he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

Mike is awake the next time he opens them, wearing a serene expression that instantly tells Harvey they’re alright despite their slip-up last night. He lets out a deep breath, unwilling to let the moment end, even though it’s inevitable now that there’s no pretending they’re still asleep anymore.

Mike is carding his hand through the no doubt messy strands of Harvey’s hair slowly, without hurry. It feels surprisingly nice. Harvey tries to remember the last time someone did that and comes up with a blank. It’s entirely possible that no one ever did.

He sighs as he stretches, the corner of his mouth lifting too when Mike smiles.

“Morning,” he says.

“Good morning.” Harvey cranes his head. “What time is it?”

“Eight something. There’s no rush.”

“Thank god.” He exhales slowly, then asks, “Coffee?”

“You bet.”

He sits up regretfully, but he knows Mike’s hands couldn’t have stayed in his hair forever anyway. He smiles at him when he rises, and Harvey pads to the kitchen to get the coffee machine started.

It’s a morning like any other, perhaps a little quieter, a little more intimate, but not so different that it’s worth mentioning.

There’s no need to talk about it. They carry on.

Marcus, Katie, and the kids wait for them outside their hotel when they round the corner, and Harvey’s instant smile at the sight of them is nothing compared to their joy when they lay eyes on him.

“Uncle Harvey!”

The air escapes his lungs as they fling themselves at him, and he bends down to meet them halfway, wrapping his arms around them.

“Look at you two. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown! Are you guys having a good time in New York?”

“We only just got here!” Luca explains with a giggle.

“Right, of course. Well, it’s about time we had brunch so you can go off exploring, isn’t it?”

He straightens to greet Marcus and Katie as well, who have said hi to Mike in the meantime. Marcus puts a hand on his shoulder, turning to the children.

“Kids, this is Mike. He’s a friend of your uncle’s.”

Harvey glances at him, but there’s nothing in his expression suggesting that he doubts his own words. He doesn’t know if that means they’re more subtle than he thought or that Marcus is just oblivious, but either way, he’ll take it.

“Mike, this is Haley and that’s Luca.”

Mike lowers himself, giving them a big grin as he waves.

“Great to meet you guys! Your name is Haley?” he asks his niece, smiling when she nods. “Almost like your uncle!”

“I know!” she exclaims, her grin making Harvey chuckle. “I’m gonna be an actor like him!”

“Oh, that’s awesome! I’m an actor too, you know. We should all be in a play together sometime.”

She lights up. “We can do Snow White! Or Sleeping Beauty. Or Star Wars! Maybe Luca would wanna be in it too, then.”

“Or Star Trek,” Mike says, glancing at Harvey. “Your uncle would love that, I’m sure.”

“Believe me, if there were such a thing as a Star Trek play, I’d be the first in line to play Captain Kirk,” Harvey remarks dryly.

Marcus huffs out a laugh, and Mike grins before he asks, “Alright, where did you wanna go?”

“There’s this place about ten minutes from here,” Harvey says, nodding to his left. “I’ll lead the way.”

“The Lion King. Or Bambi. Or Beauty and the Beast,” Haley carries on behind him as they turn to go.

“That’s a good idea,” Mike agrees. “You’re the beauty, and Harvey can be the beast.”

Harvey snorts. “That leaves you to play the furniture,” he points out.

Katie throws him an amused glance, but only shakes her head when he lifts an eyebrow.

 _Le chat et la crème_ proves to be a good choice – the kids love the little cat figures and prints hidden all over the place, and there’s plenty of food for everyone to find something they like.

Mike sits next to him, the kids on his side, Marcus and Katie on Harvey’s, and even with Mike’s attention elsewhere, Marcus and he manage to have a conversation without incidents. Katie helps, chiming in every now and then to talk about her work at the hospital, but even so Harvey finds himself pleasantly surprised as they settle in to enjoy what’s shaping up to be a relaxed and comfortable brunch.

Who would have thought they could have that?

When he glances at Mike, making sure he doesn’t feel left out, he finds that he gets along with the children like a house on fire, even with Luca, who Harvey remembers to be more reserved around strangers. There’s a joke about Mike’s age somewhere in there, but he saves that for later because this is… really nice. It’s normal. It’s something Harvey is surprised to discover that he actually wants. He never thought he’d find himself wishing for a big family, and it’s not that he can’t see himself living just fine without one, but there’s still something about this that’s getting to him.

Maybe one day. Maybe this could be his family, despite everything that’s kept them apart in the past. Maybe Mike could be, even when all this is over. It’s a painful thought in some ways, and yet strangely comforting in others. There’s no way of knowing, and that’s the hardest part about it, but maybe that’s the price he has to pay to get something like this; a family, a group of people that, as dysfunctional as it may be, is always there to fall back on; that includes Mike, even when the play is done and they are going their separate ways.

Maybe they can figure that out, Mike and him and the rest of them. Maybe that’s not as impossible as he’s made himself believe.

*

“How much longer?”

“Quiet.”

“Harvey,” Mike whines, and he rolls his eyes.

“You know time doesn’t go by faster when you ask that question every thirty seconds, don’t you?”

“I swear it’s been twenty minutes already,” he mutters. “They should have started by now.”

Harvey shushes him, picking up the remote to turn up the volume. “They’re about to.”

It’s hard to believe that they’re standing here now (standing because Mike is too jittery to sit down) when it feels like they only just started performing, but as impossible as it seems, all of it – tech week, opening night, even Marcus’ visit – it’s all behind them already. They are well into April now, and Mike is practically bouncing next to him because the Tony Award nominations are about to be announced.

The prelude takes forever as per usual, but it seems longer than ever today with Mike radiating nervousness in his immediate proximity. Harvey is usually pretty calm about this, or calmer than Mike at least, but there’s no way not to get a little excited at the sight of him.

He gets it, of course. He only hopes that he won’t end up disappointed, for his sake more than anything. Everyone who is part of this production deserves it, but no one more than Mike.

He deserves nothing short of the world, as far as Harvey’s concerned, and it’s ridiculous how much it bothers him that he can’t do more to give him that.

“It’ll be okay, no matter what,” he tells him, and Mike nods, but he can tell he’s not really listening.

Of course not. The categories are about to be read.

“We begin with the best performance for leading actor in a play,” the lady announces, promptly following with, “Louis Litt in ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’!”

Mike’s mouth falls open. “You’re kidding. The first one already?”

“Well deserved,” Harvey says, grinning as he squeezes his shoulder.

He’s the only one out of the three of them to be nominated, but Harvey isn’t all that bummed out. It’s in the nature of Louis’ role to draw more attention than Nick, and he really has perfected George. Mike, for his part, was almost guaranteed not to be nominated, especially since he has a lot less lines than the other two, leading him to neither fit the category of leading actor nor supporting role.

It doesn’t dampen his enthusiasm in the slightest.

“Fuck, this is surreal. We might win a damn Tony Award,” he whispers, shaking his head in disbelief.

And they really might, because that isn’t the only nomination they get.

Sheila is up for leading actress in a play and Jessica for best direction of a play, and as overjoyed as they already are, they still hold their breath when they reach the next category, the most vital one of all.

“The nominations for best revival of a play,” some guy announces on the TV. “Arthur Miller’s All my Sons. August: Osage County. Take Me Out. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. The Real Thing. And finally, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf!”

“Oh my god,” Mike gasps. “No way.”

Harvey grips his arm, a grin spreading on his face.

“We did it.”

“I can’t-“

“Mike, we goddamn did it,” Harvey says, turning to him. They stare at each other, and then they both burst into laughter, their arms finding their way around each other naturally.

He always loves this part, but god, how much better it is to get to share his excitement with someone.

Mike smells so good in his arms, his warm body perfectly slotted against Harvey’s. It’s unbelievably hard to let go of him after having him so close, and he only manages because he just _has_ to see the joy on his face again.

“Mike, this-“

That’s about as far as he gets before he’s cut off, because Mike is kissing him. From one second to the next his lips are on Harvey’s, and there’s no point in resisting, no part of Harvey that could fight him off or even wants to. He responds immediately, his mind blanking on any and all reasons as to why they shouldn’t do this.

God, how he’s yearned for this. Every nerve in his body ignites with the sheer desire flaring up in him, and all he can do is hold on and get as much out of it as he possibly can.

The kiss ends as suddenly as it began. They break apart, staring at each other in silence with their chests heaving, Mike looking just as surprised as he was by the unexpected onslaught. He swallows, licking his lips.

“Harvey-“

This time it’s him initiating the kiss, because Mike’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wide, his shiny lips parted in the most tempting invitation Harvey has ever seen and he’s _right there_ , and even if he does remember why they shouldn’t do this now, he simply doesn’t care.

Mike lets out an urgent sound, probably wanting to say something, but since he’s clearly not opposed, Harvey figures that it can wait until later.

This, on the other hand, can’t. _He_ can’t, not anymore, not after how long they’ve been forcing themselves to stay apart, to do the right thing and be good.

He doesn’t care about being good anymore. All that matters right now is to get as close as humanly possible.

Mike is still making those sounds, incapable of shutting up even now, but Harvey finds himself in much the same position when his hands slide down his sides and beneath his shirt, making his breath hitch at the touch.

He moans, and the sound seems to break down the final barrier between them. Mike’s hands are pulling at his shirt in an instant, while he himself goes straight for his pants.

“Off,” Mike mutters against his lips, and it’s only the roughness of his voice that makes Harvey let go long enough to get rid of his shirt and fling it across the room.

“You,” he says, diving in for another kiss despite his words, but Mike catches his drift. They somehow manage to stumble over to the sofa without breaking anything, losing their clothes along the way, and when Mike drops down and pulls Harvey along with him, the feeling of his bare chest against him is almost too good to be real.

It still doesn’t feel like enough. Harvey presses another kiss to his lips, then one more before he can make himself draw back, mouthing at his neck as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the length of his body.

Mike’s skin still tastes clean from his shower, but there’s a hint of salt underneath, and Harvey laps it up as he makes his way to his underwear, the last piece of clothing separating them.

Mike grabs at him when he retreats, but as much as Harvey would love to get back to him, there’s something he wants to do first. He’s clearly not the only one who’s insanely aroused, and while he’s no less desperate than Mike to do something about it, he wants to savor this too because god, how he has dreamed about this.

He drags his lips over the bulge underneath the fabric, the little wet spot already forming there, and Mike lets out a frustrated breath before he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband and pulls it down.

He wastes no time wrapping his hand around him, Mike’s legs falling open wider as he welcomes him with a sigh. He’s definitely on the bigger side, bigger than Harvey expected, and his lips part as he strokes him once, twice, marveling at the silky heat of his skin.

This isn’t what he wants to do, though. He glances up at Mike, meeting his hazy eyes as he lowers his head, wrapping his lips around the tip. Mike’s mouth falls open as he groans, and the quiet curses he lets out as Harvey sinks down to take him in deeper are like music to his ears.

The first taste of precome on his tongue kindles a spark of blind desire in him that is almost overwhelming, and he moans around him, picking up his pace to take him in deeper.

His own arousal is getting painful, but he can’t and won’t do anything about it other than a messy rut against the nearest surface, not while Mike is writhing beneath him, his pleasure entirely dependent on him. It’s intoxicating, it’s addictive, and he wants _more_ , wants to make him come undone, wants to see if he looks like he imagined when he fantasized about this moment.

Mike’s breathing is fast and hard, his eyes glazed as he stares at Harvey, drinking in the sight he must make, and even though this can’t last long, Harvey is determined to make a show out of it while it still does. He blinks up at him through his lashes, holding his gaze as he goes as low as he can, swallowing around him. His eyes water, but he refuses to back down, to look away, dragging his tongue along the underside of Mike’s cock, cherishing the musky heat.

He pulls off only when he can’t stand it anymore, making up for it by devoting himself to the tip instead, which Mike happens to be particularly responsive to.

“Shit,” he breathes out shakily, something he takes as a good sign, eliciting another whine when he drags his tongue up his length before swallowing him down again.

Mike’s hands find their way into his hair, and Harvey can tell that he’s close from how hard he’s pulling, likely without even realizing it. It only spurs him on, making him use every trick in the book, playing with the sensitive slit at the tip and fondling his balls until Mike goes rigid beneath him, letting out a low moan.

“Fuck, Harvey,” he gets out, and then, “I’m-“

Harvey knows before he says it. He bears up when Mike’s hips lift, pushing into his mouth instinctively, and the hot pulses meet his tongue a second later, accompanied by a string of high-pitched sounds that make his own cock weep with arousal.

He takes him in further, swallowing around him – he doesn’t mind doing this, on the contrary, but the taste still isn’t something he particularly cares for.

Mike babbles a litany of words he can hardly makes sense of, save for his name that he keeps repeating until it sounds like a mantra, and Harvey should have guessed he’d be trying to talk his way through this, but god, he _adores_ him.

As endearing as the muttering is, it’s not nearly as strong as the desire to connect with him again.

Harvey eases off his softening cock, wiping the excess saliva from his mouth before he places a kiss on Mike’s hip, his belly, his sternum and finally nuzzles his neck until he squirms, letting out a breathless chuckle as his arms wrap around him and pull him closer. He’s more than happy to let himself be guided towards his lips, his erection pressing into Mike’s stomach as he kisses him, deep and openmouthed. His hips are thrusting against him on their own account, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Mike reaches between them, wrapping a firm hand around his cock to give him a few strokes that make him grunt into the kiss, almost losing his mind with the need for more.

“Let me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against his lips, and Harvey is more than happy to lie back and do just that.

Mike climbs on top of him and kisses him one more time, fervently, before he moves down his body, dragging his lips across his skin wherever it pleases him. He seems enticed by Harvey’s nipples, and since they’re rather sensitive to his touch, he doesn’t mind the slight detour before he moves on to his hips. He licks along his hipbones and the inside of his thigh before he wraps his hand around his cock and goes down on him.

Harvey hisses in surprise when he immediately takes him in as far as he can go, and the vibrations from the chuckle his reaction elicits only get him more worked up.

It’s a good thing Mike clearly isn’t in the mood to drag this out and goes all in instead.

And Harvey gets it now, why Mike looked at him the way he did earlier. He’s always enjoyed this sight, whoever he was seeing or had taken home with him for the night gazing up at him with his cock in their mouth, but all of those images pale in comparison to Mike doing the same thing.

He reaches for him without thinking, brushing some errant strands out of his forehead. Mike moans shamelessly around him when his fingers twist in his hair, pulling ever so slightly, his pupils blown wide as his eyes fixate on him.

It drives Harvey insane. It takes all the restraint he possesses to keep himself from thrusting into Mike’s mouth until he comes, especially when he only encourages him with the sounds he lets out every time he gives in to the urge.

Mike pulls off, inhaling deeply as he wipes his mouth. “Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire as he closes his lips around him again and sinks even lower than before, and Harvey can’t do anything but groan and do as he asked.

It’s quick and rough and sinfully arousing, the result of all the pent-up frustration from the past few weeks finally being let loose, and it’s out of this world.

A messy blowjob has absolutely no right to feel this good, but it does, maybe because it’s Mike or because it’s been such a long time coming, but whatever it is, Harvey can’t fight his climax off for much longer.

Mike isn’t just happy to see him through, he’s determined to do it, grunting around him when Harvey pats his shoulder to warn him.

“I’m gonna come,” he breathes out, his voice rough, and Mike just meets his eyes and stubbornly sinks down lower, the challenge in his gaze as clear as any words could be.

Harvey drops his head and lets go. It doesn’t take much more, not with Mike’s skilled tongue playing around the tip of his cock, his wet heat engulfing him entirely, and he doesn’t fight the tension building in the pit of his stomach, desperate for release.

It comes at once, the pleasure going through his entire body for one sweet, endless moment, and the only thing keeping it from being absolutely perfect is the fact that he can’t kiss Mike at the same time.

He quickly redeems that, climbing up the length of his body until he’s reached his face as soon as his climax ebbs away. Harvey can taste himself on his lips, groaning against them as he pulls Mike closer, their legs entangled when he ends up wedged between him and the sofa, impossible not to touch.

They stay like that, holding on to each other. Their slowly calming breaths are the only sound in the room for a long time.

“Well,” Mike eventually breaks the silence. Harvey continues to run his hand up and down his back. “I guess that happened.”

“Guess it did,” he agrees.

“I… wanna say that I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”

“Well, good. Neither am I.”

Mike lifts his head. “You aren’t?”

“Do I look like I am?” Harvey asks mildly, the corner of his mouth lifting when Mike smiles and shakes his head. “There you go. Besides, it’s not like you seduced me against my will. It takes two, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does,” he mutters.

He drops his head again, and they fall back into silence, each hanging after their own thoughts as they put off separating as long as possible on unspoken agreement.

Eventually Harvey’s buzzing phone interrupts the quiet again – it’s not the first time, but he wasn’t in any state of mind to pay attention to it before.

The muted sound is coming from the pocket of his jeans somewhere to his right, getting louder when he stretches and manages to fish it out of there.

“Shit,” he mutters when he sees the list of messages and missed calls. “I think we might have drawn attention to ourselves by going MIA immediately after the announcement.”

He sits up, regretfully untangling himself from Mike as he skims the texts. Before he can respond to any of them, his phone starts buzzing again.

“That’s Donna. I gotta take this.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mike agrees, offering a brief smile that isn’t fooling anyone, mostly because Harvey feels the same reluctance to get up and leave this sofa.

He does it anyway, because they shouldn’t even have ended up there in the first place and they need to carry on at some point, but stops before he accepts the call, his eyes catching on Mike’s bowed shoulders. He hesitates, leaning down to meet his lips for one last kiss before he straightens, as ready to step out of their little bubble and enter the outside world again as he’ll ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Patrick J. Adams was supposed to be in a revival of 'Take Me Out', one of the other plays that got nominated in this fic, on Broadway this summer.
> 
> 'Le chat et la crème' is a restaurant I made up.
> 
> I know Marcus’ family shows up in season 8 or 9, but since I didn’t watch those I made up everything except Katie and Haley’s name. I still think it’s funny they called Harvey’s niece Haley. Not as funny as calling Louis’ daughter Lucy, but close.


	11. Chapter 11

So they kind of broke their wait-until-the-play-is-over rule. Mike would be lying if he said he didn’t _want_ it to happen, but he definitely didn’t mean for it to – it just kind of did, caught up in the emotions of the moment as they were. An accident, a happy one as far as Mike is concerned, but unexpected nevertheless.

And that was just the first time.

It happened again. And again.

“I’m clean, by the way,” Harvey said after their second slip-up, pulling his pants back up. He never took them off entirely once Mike opened them and immediately got down to business. “Got tested a few months ago, always used protection after that. Since you didn’t ask.”

“Neither did you,” Mike pointed out.

“Wasn’t exactly the most important thing on my mind at the time.”

“Likewise.” It should have been, but it wasn’t, which says enough about their priorities in the moment. He zipped his pants, then said, “I’ve never been with anyone without a condom before, apart from a handjob, so. You know.”

Harvey’s eyes snapped up, looking like he wanted to devour him all over again.

“Good,” was all he said, which was enough to make Mike believe that, despite their rule, a third time wasn’t all that unlikely.

Which, as it turned out, it wasn’t.

They should probably have an actual conversation about how this keeps happening and whether they’re exclusive or not (he’s pretty sure they are; _he_ definitely is, and he trusts Harvey to do the responsible thing and use protection if he decides to be with anyone else – a thought that is deeply uncomfortable, but Mike does his best not to dwell on it). But it’s not like they’re planning for this thing to continue, whatever the hell it even is. It just sort of… does.

Some dam must have broken with that first time, and once they had gotten to know each other like that, it was like they simply forgot how to stop.

It doesn’t happen every time they’re alone, which is almost every night at this point. But it happens often enough.

There isn’t one room in Harvey’s apartment they haven’t had sex in by now, save for the guest room that Mike still hasn’t entered and has no intention of going into anytime soon. There’s no regularity to it, nothing suggesting that either of them is moving things in that direction on purpose – speculating on it, perhaps, but there _was_ a reason they didn’t do this before.

But every once in a while, they’ll look at each other and forget what the hell it was.

“I’m sensing a pattern here,” Mike says after the next incident, which happened in Harvey’s dressing room of all places (had to be that at some point with the amount of time they spend in there, he figures).

Harvey just sighs.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to relieve the pre-performance tension,” he remarks.

Mike watches him put his costume back on with a deep exhale. At least they didn’t get any questionable substances on there.

He knows they should leave it at that. Don’t look back, make sure it doesn’t happen again, and move the hell on because every time they do this, it only makes the inevitable separation ahead of them that much harder.

But when he feels Harvey’s body moving on top of him, the warmth of his skin beneath his hands, the taste of him lingering on his lips every time they kiss, it is so damn hard to look ahead. Not only because being with Harvey just feels too good to pass up on, which it definitely does. Mike also really doesn’t want to think about what’s coming towards them.

He knows the end of the play isn’t as far off as it used to be anymore, he knows that every time they step on that stage, they’re one performance closer to the very last time, and once that’s over, everything’s going to change.

And Mike is just not ready for that yet.

So he doesn’t fight it when it happens again, when Harvey kisses him like he doesn’t really think he should and yet couldn’t stop himself if he tried, even though he knows this could very well destroy both of them in the end.

He lets it happen again. There’s nothing he could do to stop it.

Still, with how often they hang out, the amount of times they sleep together is vanishingly small in comparison. They are still trying to keep up a semblance of _waiting_ , and while it clearly doesn’t work all the time, it does for the most part, which Mike decides to count as a victory.

The play is taking up most of his time, even when he isn’t up on that stage once or twice a day. Just because they’re performing now doesn’t mean they’re off the hook when it comes to rehearsals – they still have to make sure they maintain their current level to keep the audience and, of course, Jessica satisfied. Between that and the actual shows, his days have turned into an endless cycle of spending time at Harvey’s, visiting his Grammy, hanging out at a bar with the cast and crew after a performance, doing yoga, collapsing on Harvey’s sofa from exhaustion, and then doing it all over again.

There comes a point when Mike realizes that he hasn’t spent more than two hours at a time inside his apartment in weeks, and he can’t exactly say that it bothers him. He’d much rather spend his limited free time at Harvey’s, _with_ Harvey, than at his own place where he’s pretty sure he discovered a new spot of mold in the kitchen the other day. But that’s a problem for future Mike, among many others he’d rather not be thinking about just yet, like the fact that every time he feels Harvey’s hands on him it could be the last, or that time is running and will soon run out and he can barely keep up.

Neither of them can, and so they combat the passage of time in the only way they know how.

Making the most of every moment isn’t just an empty platitude anymore. It’s a necessity.

Every performance, Mike reminds himself to relish the feeling of being up on that stage with Harvey, and Louis and Sheila too, like it’s the final one already because it _will_ be before long, and he wants to remember this when the moment comes.

Off stage, they’re usually together as well, even when they don’t do more than sit side by side, each engrossed in their own stuff. Most of the time they do something with each other by unspoken agreement though; watching another episode of Star Trek to fall asleep to, sharing a meal, taking a walk because Mike refuses to go on a run (yoga is quite enough exercise for him at the moment, thank you very much).

Harvey cooks, more regularly now. It’s so ridiculously domestic that Mike only stopped and stared the first time it happened, briefly wondering if he somehow ended up in a parallel universe where the two of them are actually together and none of their worries about the future are reasonable cause for concern. All that sci-fi must be getting to him.

His food actually isn’t half bad though, and he would have liked it even if it had been, for the simple reason that Harvey made it for them.

They touch each other a lot too, even when they aren’t sleeping together. There’s nothing sexual about it – it could turn into something very different very easily, Mike is well aware of that, but it doesn’t, most of the time. It’s more about assuring themselves that they’re still there, that they’re not going anywhere just yet, even though neither of them knows how much longer this is going to last.

It’s not about the future, though. It’s always about the here and now.

Mike keeps expecting either of them to get sick and tired of being stuck with each other most of the time, but somehow they never do. When they aren’t in the mood to talk, they just don’t, and the other accepts that without question. Mike knows he can go home anytime he wants some space, and Harvey knows he can tell him to get lost anytime _he_ does, but he can count the times that actually happened on one hand. When they fight, it’s about something ridiculous, and it’s forgotten before the end of the night because there are more important things to hold on to than misunderstandings or someone lashing out after a long and tiring day.

It’s a rhythm Mike is all too happy to get used to, the only thing missing from it being the promise of permanence. That’s probably what makes it so sweet in his mind, the bitterness it’s tinged with because of its very nature; limited from the start, the moment it’ll reach its inevitable end moving closer and closer with every passing day.

The pleasant routine is disrupted before it comes to that though. It’s a surprisingly cold Thursday night after the warm week they’ve had, and Mike, doing stage door and inconveniently having forgotten his jacket inside, is hastening through the people waiting to see him when he hears it.

“Great show, dude.”

It’s nothing unusual, and it’s not the words that make him stop short – it’s the voice that’s saying it, instantly familiar and entirely unexpected.

He looks up to confirm his suspicion anyway, coming face to face with the last person he thought he’d see here.

“Trevor.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, but Trevor holds up his hands, shaking his head before he can think of anything.

“Before you get mad, I’m not here to pick a fight. I just wanted a chance to tell you in person that I’m sorry. And how good you were on that stage, because dude, that was something else.”

“Thanks,” Mike says slowly, swallowing. This is the wrong time, the wrong place for this with all those people around, but he can’t help pulling him aside after a moment of hesitation to get at least a little privacy, his curiosity piqued, and asking, “You’re sorry?”

Trevor lets out a deep breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Listen, I’m… I know I fucked up. So many times, and in more ways than I can count, but I’m finally realizing that I’ve been a really shitty friend to you, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I dragged you into all my messes and held you back, when you could have done _\- this_ instead.”

Mike blinks at him, taken aback. “I… thank you. For saying that.”

Trevor purses his lips, then meets his eyes. “We had fun, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. We definitely did.”

He nods to himself. “But I think we weren’t good for each other. _I_ wasn’t good for you, at least.”

“Maybe not.”

Mike turns to look when he notices Harvey’s gaze on him from the corner of his eye. He lifts a questioning eyebrow, but Mike only shakes his head.

“I’m fine. Be back in a second.”

Harvey’s eyes linger on him before he’s distracted by the woman in front of him, and he returns his attention to Trevor.

“Look, I think… sometimes a relationship is good for a while, and then it runs its course and you just have to move on. Even if it sucks.”

“I guess so. Make room for new stuff and all that, right?” His eyes move to Harvey before he lifts his chin curiously. “So, is he? Your boyfriend? You never said.”

Mike purses his lips, his cheeks flushing despite himself as the memories of their attempts at _waiting to be together_ flood his mind. “It’s complicated.”

Scrutinizing him, Trevor hums.

“Well, whatever he is, he’s certainly putting me to shame.”

Mike throws him a look, no idea what to say to that, and he sighs.

“I’m working on myself, yeah? I’m really trying. Kinda sucks that this is what it took, but, well. It is what it is, right?”

He shrugs, a small smile on his face. “That’s all I wanted to tell you. I know you don’t want me to be part of your life anymore, and I respect that. I just thought we owed each other a proper goodbye after half a lifetime of being friends.”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees after a beat. “Yeah, I think we do. I’m… glad you came, Trevor. And I’m glad you got to see the show.”

“Yeah, me too.” Trevor’s smile grows, genuine, if a little sad. His eyes catch on Harvey again. “I really do hope it all works out for you. You deserve to be happy, Mike.”

“You do too, you know.”

He swallows. “Yeah. Well. I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for talking to me.”

Mike nods. “Goodbye, Trevor.”

They look at each other. Trevor pinches his lips, then smiles one last time. “Bye, Mike. Take care.”

He watches him turn around and leave until his view is blocked by the crowd closing in on him, and he shakes himself as the sound of his name being called repeatedly comes into focus again, making up for the time he lost by giving the remaining people his utmost attention.

“Alright?” Harvey asks when they head back inside at last, watching him closely.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Freezing, though.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“What did he want?”

“A proper goodbye, I think. He seemed… different. I don’t know, he sounded like he’s serious about changing this time.” Mike smiles a little. “I don’t think I’m gonna see him again, and I don’t really want to, but… it was nice, to part on good terms.”

“I can imagine.” Harvey nudges his side. “As long as you’re okay.”

“I am,” he says, returning the gesture playfully, and when the smile lingers on his face, he finds that he really means it.

*

“Great news, everyone.”

Jeff Malone claps his hands together as he looks around the room, his gaze catching on Jessica before he says, “I just got off the phone with a guy from Digital Theater. We finally settled on a deal, so it’s my pleasure to announce that there’s going to be a special performance of ‘Virginia Woolf’ that will be filmed and made available to the general public.”

“Whoa.” Mike’s jaw drops as he stares at him. “Really? They do that?”

Jeff nods. “People can watch the performance online from all over the world for a fraction of the price a ticket would be, which makes it a lot more accessible.”

“That’s amazing!”

Mike grins, and Harvey smiles when he meets his eyes. Not everyone shares his immediate excitement, though.

“What does that mean, exactly?” Louis demands to know, narrowing his eyes. “How is it going to impact the performance? Will we have to make any changes to accommodate the camera team?”

Jeff and Jessica exchange a look before he goes on to assure him that nothing is going to change for them as actors and they’ll be able to proceed as per usual. Jessica’s eyes linger on him as he talks, which in itself isn’t unusual, but there’s a certain expression on her face that makes Mike tilt his head, wondering if there isn’t more behind it.

“Did you notice any… vibes between Jessica and Jeff?” he asks Harvey when they leave together after the meeting.

“What kind of vibes?” Harvey glances at him. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just… I’ve never seen Jessica look at anyone like that. She seemed very… approving of Jeff and what he was saying.”

“Well, maybe she was just happy about the news,” Harvey says, but his eyes are narrowed, and Mike can tell he’s thinking.

“I mean, she had every reason to be. This is amazing, isn’t it? I’m so excited.”

“Of course you are.” Harvey chuckles. “I agree, though. I’m glad we’ll have a copy of the play to keep. And it’ll be interesting to watch once it’s over too.”

Interesting as well as a whole bunch of other things, Mike is sure, but he just nods.

“I like the idea of it not disappearing entirely after that last performance, you know?”

As much as he’s trying to block out the inevitable progression of time, he’s still acutely aware of the final show moving closer, of the transience of what they worked so hard to create together. It’ll be nice to have a recording of a performance to take home and keep for himself, something physical to hold on to and remember this entire experience by.

As if he could ever forget a single second of it, even without his memory.

“Yeah,” Harvey agrees, pulling him from his reminiscing. “I know.”

Mike glances at him, letting his hand brush Harvey’s as they walk in silent comfort. In another life, he would have taken it and held on until they both forgot there was anything to be sad about.

Maybe one day he’ll get to do that. Until then, this will have to do.

The date for the recording is set for the following week, and despite Jeff’s assurances that nothing is going to change for them, it still feels different to go up on that stage and know that whatever they do there, it’ll be immortalized on tape for all the world to see.

If movie actors have to deal with the special kind of anxiety that comes with that every time, he’s quite glad to have chosen the thespian path instead.

“It’s different,” Harvey disputes when he says as much. “Movie actors get to do it over and over again if they mess up. All we get is one take for the whole play.”

“Well, great. _That_ makes me feel better.”

“You’ll be fine, honey. Just do what you always do and you’ll blow them all away.”

He squeezes his shoulder briefly, and at the sight of his genuine smile, Mike has no choice but to believe it.

It’s not that their performances have been getting weaker in any way, but there’s an unspoken agreement between the four of them to make this one special, to make every line and every movement of their bodies count even more than they usually do.

Louis is exceptionally disagreeable prior to the recording, which Mike knows by now means he’s taking his preparations very seriously, Sheila is fighting over one thing or another with Jessica while trying to make sure that her performance is the best it can possibly be, and even Harvey’s lips move silently as he repeats his lines to himself before it’s time to get on stage.

Mike, for his part, tries not to think about the fact that they’ll be filmed at all, instead focusing all his energy on getting the most out of every moment of his performance, if it’s going to be captured for posterity already. He wants to do well, yes, but he also wants to enjoy it, wants to look back on this when he watches that video at some point and remember exactly how incredible it felt to be up there and get to do this.

It’s a good thing the play demands nothing less than everyone’s utmost attention, because there’s no time to remember the fact that there’s a camera pointed at them in addition to the usual audience, no chance to fixate on the unforgiving eye watching their every move and get uncomfortable. They breeze through the motions like they always do, perhaps a little more aware of them this time, but otherwise unchanged. There’s a distinct sense of elation when Sheila utters the final line and silence falls, ominous and oppressive before the spell is broken and the whole thing is captured in its entirety, immortalized to outlive all of them.

Mike exchanges a glance with Harvey, finding the same satisfaction in his eyes that he can see on Sheila and Louis’ faces. All of them agree that this one was a worthy performance to record – though even their worst one would have been extraordinary, as far as Mike is concerned – but there’s one person in particular whose opinion he wants to hear, heading her off as soon as he gets a chance.

“Jessica! Hey! Did you see it on camera? How did it look?”

“From what I gathered, it looks amazing,” she tells him, smiling at his triumphant grin. “Then again, there was hardly a way for this not to translate well to a screen.”

What would have sounded like arrogance from anyone else is a mere fact on her lips, the confidence nothing less than completely justified. And anyway, if there’s one thing Mike has learned from his time on this project, though there are more of those than he can keep track of, it’s that a healthy amount of arrogance doesn’t hurt when it comes from someone who’s earned it.

Before this, he spent long enough putting himself down when he deserved better, and resorting to pretentious arrogance only when he was actually compensating for the firm belief that he wasn’t worthy.

Not anymore, though. There was no way to be part of something like this, with people like Jessica and Sheila and Louis and Rachel, and Harvey, always Harvey, and come out of it _not_ believing in himself and the things he can do.

“You’re probably right about that,” Mike agrees, then lifts his chin eagerly. “When do you think we can see it? Is there a way to get our hands on it before they release it to the general public?”

“I believe they’ll put it on the internet sometime after the Tony’s, but I’m sure there’s a way for us to get an advance copy before the official release. Jeff will let me know as soon as he gets more information on that.”

“Huh. Will he. That’s good. Great, actually.” He tries to fight off his grin when Jessica lifts an eyebrow. “Tell him I said hi when you talk to him, yeah? Alright, well, gotta go and get changed now. See you!”

He turns on his heel and disappears before she can guess what’s behind his no doubt suspiciously giddy attitude, though he could just as well blame it on the post-performance high that still gets him, every single time.

Part of him hopes that he never gets used to it, no matter how many more times he’ll have the privilege of experiencing it after this play is over. The thought of giving that up – not just this production in particular, but acting in general; all the ecstasy and satisfaction and fulfillment he’s getting from this, it’s unthinkable. He has no idea how he spent his days before he did this, what he really loves, but he can’t go back to that, not after having known what it can be like.

He just hopes he won’t have to.

“Okay, Jessica and Jeff are definitely getting it on,” he announces as he strides into Harvey’s dressing room. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure.”

Harvey swivels in his chair to look at him, lifting an eyebrow.

“What makes you so certain?”

“I don’t know, call it a hunch. But I’m usually pretty good at those, so.”

Harvey hums.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re right.”

“You do? Wait, do you… know something?”

Mike gasps when he smirks, crossing the distance between them to put an imploring hand on his shoulder.

“Harvey, please. If you know something, you _have_ to tell me.”

“Why do you care so much?”

The amusement in his voice doesn’t escape Mike, who just gives him a look.

“I don’t. I just think it’s funny that so much… affection has sprung from this production.”

“Affection,” Harvey repeats. They look at each other before he turns back to his reflection, taking off his make-up. “Well. Whatever it is, something has definitely sprung. I made… inquiries.”

“And she told you?”

“Not in so many words, but I’ve known her long enough to read between the lines.”

“Wow. Can you believe that? I mean, is there anyone on this production who _didn’t_ hook up with someone else involved in it?”

“It’s not uncommon,” Harvey says, though the curve of his lips tells Mike that he’s teasing him more than anything.

“Huh. Well, if those two or Sheila and Louis end up with a baby at some point, they _gotta_ call it Virginia.”

“Nice name. Especially for a boy.”

“Open your mind, Harvey. This is the twenty-first century.” He huffs. “I guess it’s a good thing _we_ don’t run the risk of accidentally acquiring a child. Imagine the fights we’d have trying to settle on a name.”

Harvey meets his eyes briefly in the reflection before he drops his gaze.

“Guess it is.” Discarding of his wet wipe, he asks, “So, how did you like being on camera?”

Mike lets him change the subject without commenting on it. It’s not something he particularly wants to dwell on anyway, lest he awakens any more desires he can’t satisfy than he already has.

“It was weird. Cool, but weird. I definitely made the right choice when I decided I wanted to be a stage actor instead of a movie star.”

“I agree. You belong on a stage, quite clearly.”

He says it matter-of-factly, almost in passing, but Mike swallows, for a moment incapable of finding his voice as he blinks at him.

He loves joking around with Harvey, loves the casual conversation that doesn’t have to lead anywhere as long as it entertains them, but it’s so much harder to keep it casual with the… _affection_ welling up in him when he says things like that.

“You’re one to talk,” he mutters, biting his lip to hide his smile when Harvey glances at him.

Clearing his throat, he sinks into the cushions of his sofa. “Well, either way, I know what we’re watching for our next movie night.”

“I’ll warn you, it might not be as glamorous to see yourself on screen as you think it is.”

“Oh no, I’m fully expecting to die of embarrassment as we go along, but, you know. Someone once told me I shouldn’t be afraid of being seen and all that.”

“Did they, now,” Harvey mutters, and he can hear the smile in his voice without having to look. “Good to know you actually listen to what people tell you every once in a while.”

“Hey, I always listen to you! Often. More than I do to other people, at least, bar Jessica of course.” He cocks his head curiously. “Does that mean you’ve been recorded like this before?”

He only realizes now that he never thought to look up Harvey’s stage history in that regard, the idea not even crossing his mind.

“Twice, actually. They filmed The Crucible three years ago. And Macbeth, of course.”

“Macbeth?” Mike sits up. “No way. How did I not know that?”

“You never asked.”

“You could have told me! Alright, well, we’re watching _that_ for sure. And I still want us to watch ‘Virginia Woolf’ when all this is over.”

Harvey nods.

“We will,” he promises, and at the sound of his voice, Mike instinctively understands what he’s really saying. There’s a promise of a future in there, whatever that may look like, of things staying the same between them even when everything else changes. Of them still having movie nights. Of him not letting go so easily.

Which is a good thing, really. Because Mike doesn’t intend to, either.

*

As exciting as the experience of being recorded was, Mike still prefers doing regular performances with only a live audience and no cameras pointed at him. He welcomes the chance to get back into it the following night, embracing the knowledge that everything they’re doing is only here for the moment before it disappears for good. There’s something tragic about that, but something so beautiful too, and he’s trying to focus on that aspect as much as he can.

As far as he knows, that’s the only special thing about tonight’s show – at least until they’re backstage again afterwards and Harvey calls his name.

“Mike, can you come over here for a second?”

He excuses himself from his conversation with Louis, not all that sad about cutting it short – while he has grown to enjoy his various and rather particular quirks, he isn’t always in the right space of mind to deal with them at length.

“What’s up?” he asks, coming to stand beside Harvey. He puts a hand on his back, turning to the strange woman he was talking to before.

“This is Mike Ross. Mike, this is Vera Woods. She’s the director of the drama department at Juilliard.”

Mike stares at him, just so stopping his mouth from dropping before his eyes move to her and he remembers himself, hurrying to shake her hand.

“Oh my god, wow. Hi. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise. You gave a rather impressive performance back there!”

“Oh, you- really? That’s… I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”

“Oh, I did. I haven’t enjoyed a play this much in quite some time, actually. I’m glad Harvey invited me, or else I might have missed it.”

Mike turns to Harvey, blinking at him with a smile that is probably a little too wide to look natural.

“You invited her?”

If Harvey hears the underlying question, he shows no sign of it, instead just nodding. “I figured Mrs. Woods would appreciate the performance.”

“I always enjoy seeing what our alumni get up to after leaving us. And it is so nice to discover new talent as well, of course.”

“Of course,” Mike echoes. “Well, I- I’m really happy you got a chance to see the play. We all poured our hearts into it, and it’s always wonderful to get to share that with people who appreciate it.”

“I agree!” She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, I’d love to discuss it some more. Harvey invited me for a drink after this, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, I… sure! Yeah, I mean, absolutely.” He turns to Harvey. “Should we go and get changed, or…?”

He nods. “Mrs. Woods, if you’ll give us a minute, we’ll be with you right away.”

“Oh, take your time. I think Louis Litt just spotted me, which means I’ll be busy for a while.”

“I’m sure,” Harvey agrees with a quiet laugh before he follows Mike to the dressing rooms.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?” he hisses as soon as she’s out of earshot.

“How would that have helped? You only would have been more nervous and may even have ended up mangling a line, or worse. This way, you already did everything exactly the way you should have. It was perfect.”

“That’s-“ Mike waves his hand, impatient. “I mean, why did you ask her to come and introduce us in the first place? What’s the endgame here?”

“There is no endgame. Don’t worry about that. In fact, don’t even think about it. The three of us are only getting a drink together, that’s all.”

Mike eyes him from the side, his suspicions only growing when Harvey gives him a canting smile.

“You’re planning something.”

“And you’re not listening to me. You’re looking pretty flustered already, and we haven’t even left yet.”

“I’m not flustered! And that’s not an answer. I know when you’re deflecting.”

“And I know when you’re nervous. I’m telling you, don’t be. She wants to get to know _you_ , not some jittery wreck that can’t string a sentence together to save his life.”

“Charming,” Mike remarks, rolling his eyes. “Fine, so we get a drink and then what? What am I even supposed to talk to her about?”

“Do you plan all of your conversations in advance?” Harvey shrugs. “Just be yourself. Don’t worry about what you’re gonna say or how you’ll impress her. Just talk to her. Whatever happens will figure itself out. Trust me.”

Mike opens his mouth, wanting to say more, but then closes it again with a sigh. “I do trust you.”

“Good. Remember that, do what I just told you to do, and you’ll be fine.”

He stops in front of his dressing room, throwing him a look over his shoulder to add, more gently, “Relax. I’ll be right there with you, the whole time.”

He keeps his word, like he always does. Mike tries his hardest to shake the nerves attempting to creep up on him and follow his example of being cool and collected, entirely unfazed by the company they’re finding themselves in.

Fortunately, Mrs. Woods makes it very easy to relax in her presence, and he feels his shoulders untense as they grab a table at a nearby bar, deep in conversation about ‘Virginia Woolf’ before they even get their first drinks. Soon Mike has forgotten all about coming off a certain way, instead finding himself flailing his hands and talking a lot more animatedly than one drink warrants as he discusses his interpretations of Honey’s relationship with the other characters in detail. He doesn’t usually get to geek out like this with people outside of the production, and it’s almost ridiculous how much he’s enjoying the chance to ramble on and on to his heart’s desire.

He catches Harvey’s eyes on him a couple of times throughout the conversation, the fondness in them making him feel warm all over in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and between the three of them, the conversation flows as easy as anything.

“I did wonder,” Mrs. Woods says, cocking her head, “what was the thought process behind turning Honey into a man? Many consider it a bold move, with the hysterical pregnancy she has in the original script and the parallel to Martha’s childlessness it depicts.”

Mike huffs out a laugh and lifts his shoulders. “Honestly, I’d love to tell you something more deep or sophisticated, but it was pretty much just because they rewrote the script to accommodate me after I stumbled into this project by accident.”

“Oh? How so?”

Before Mike can figure out how to best tell the story without incriminating himself, Harvey leans in, placing a hand low on his back.

“There was a bit of a mix-up that made Mike show up for the audition we had for Honey. Rather than just going home, he insisted on reading for the part, and it became clear pretty soon that we’d found the right person for it in him. Even if it wasn’t who we’d been looking for. But when you know, you know, right?”

Mike returns his smile, biting his lip before he can take his eyes off him. Harvey’s hand tightens on his back before it falls away.

“It was a very happy accident that we found him, as far as I’m concerned. I couldn’t imagine having anyone else play my Honey.”

The warmth and affection in his voice can’t possibly go over her head, but she just nods, accepting whatever she’s taking from it with a smile.

“Sometimes those kinds of accidents make for the best stories, even if they didn’t come about intentionally. That’s the beauty of art, isn’t it? There’s so much potential in everything. Every story, every word. Every person.”

Her eyes land on him on the final part, and his stomach sinks when she shifts in her seat.

“You know, Mike, I’m aware of your history.”

He doesn’t need to ask what exactly she’s talking about; it’s perfectly clear.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” he sighs. When he glances at her, the look on her face isn’t unkind.

“I’ll admit that I was surprised, seeing the performance you delivered tonight. Though I shouldn’t have been. You’re not the only artist who got off to a bumpy start or, shall we say, took a detour along the way. Unfortunately, it’s not a rare occurrence in our line of work.”

The corner of her mouth lifts a little.

“However, I firmly belief that the mistakes of your past shouldn’t disqualify you from having a future. One that isn’t determined by your previous failures. We aren’t an accumulation of the things we’ve done wrong in our lives, are we? If anything, they’re part of us like everything else, helping us change and grow into different, perhaps better people. And if we as artists didn’t think people could change and grow, we’d be working in the wrong field.”

Mike listens breathlessly, swallowing when she gives him a contemplative look. He’s acutely aware of the noises around them, the taste of his drink lingering on his tongue, the warmth of Harvey’s body next to him, every flicker on her face as she leans in and regards him intently.

“I’m not going to promise you anything, Mike. But I do want to talk to you. I want to hear what you have to say, because something tells me it’s worth my time.”

He huffs, licking his lips. “So people seem to think.”

Harvey huffs out a quiet laugh beside him, and she chuckles as well. Mike returns her smile before he leans in, holding out his hands.

“I’d very much like to talk to you, just from one artist to another. No strings attached.”

“Very well.” She nods. “It’s obvious that you’re passionate about your craft. My question for you is, why? What do you like about acting? What’s drawing you to the art of performing?”

Mike lets out a deep breath. This is safe territory. This, he can absolutely do.

“Well, you know how they say that theater is larger than life? As clichéd as it may be, I think it’s true, but there’s also more to it than that. What happens on a stage is… more than what life is, yeah, but it’s also support for when you can’t bear your _own_ life. Whether you’re performing or watching, it’s a way of exploring the full spectrum of human emotions and experiences. It’s finding what you’re looking for day after day and can’t ever seem to get. And it’s a reflection of what you yourself feel and maybe don’t quite understand, too. What keeps you up at night, what is eating you alive, something you thought no one else could ever relate to, until you see it on that stage and you finally feel understood. Like you’re not alone. It’s… a mirror when you need it. And a way out when you don’t.”

“How so?”

Mike taps the rim of his glass with his finger, pursing his lips.

“It’s the age-old story, isn’t it? Sometimes you just need to step out of your life, of being you. And theater… any kind of art, really, _is_ that way out. I always loved acting, getting to tell a story that wasn’t my own, but I only really got into it when my parents passed away.”

“Oh. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

He smiles. “Thank you. I was eleven when I lost them, and whenever my grief felt like too much to carry in the following years, I turned to acting. I performed, joined every drama club I could find, I read plays whenever I had a minute to spare… it got me through some of my worst days. I don’t know where I’d be without art, but I know that it wouldn’t be half as good as where I am now.”

“So having felt the importance of art yourself is what makes you want to make more it,” Mrs. Woods summarizes.

“I guess that’s what it comes down to. I’m… let me put it this way. Art is still a privilege in too many ways, isn’t it? And it shouldn’t be. It can’t be. Art is for everyone, and everyone needs art in one way or another. So it has to be accessible. For the poor kid who doesn’t know where his next meal will come from. For the depressed teenager who feels like she can’t talk to anyone. For the three-times divorcé wondering if he’s incapable of love.” His lips curve into a dry smile. “For the teenage fuck-up who’s about to make a mistake that’ll ruin his entire life because he needs some money. For everyone who’s going through a break-up. Everyone struggling to cope with the developments of the world. Everyone looking for love, for comfort, for meaning in the chaos that is our everyday lives. Every single person out there. Because consuming art and creating it is what defines us, and it shouldn’t be withheld from anyone. It should be encouraged. As far as I’m concerned, it should be a given.”

Mrs. Woods regards him over her glasses. “So you think you should be given access to an education in the arts, too?”

Mike lets out a deep breath, because part of him just wants to scream yes and beg her for another chance, but it doesn’t work like that, does it? He glances at Harvey, and when he meets his eyes, he makes up his mind and turns back to her.

“Look, I don’t think mistakes should be rewarded. I messed up back then, I really did. I understand why I got kicked out, and I accept it. It was deserved, and it taught me a lesson I desperately needed to learn. But I’ve learned it now. I’m not the person I was then, and if you gave me another chance, I’d appreciate it so much more than I ever could have the first time around. I wouldn’t risk it again for anything. I’m done screwing up.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “If you think that’s enough to offer me a second chance, I’d be more than happy to take it, believe me. But it’s up to you. That’s all I can tell you.”

Mrs. Woods listens quietly, not saying anything for a while once he falls silent, her piercing gaze holding him in place. His jittery nerves return now that he’s stopped talking, and he has to actively remind himself to keep breathing as he awaits her verdict.

“Well,” she finally says, and the smile on her lips makes his pulse speed up with the desperate flash of hope it gives him. “I believe that’s all I needed to hear. I’d like to invite you for a meeting with the board of directors, if you’re interested. That you can act and that you’re serious about it is undeniable. It’s not my decision alone, but if you make your case like you just did with me, I’d say your chances are looking rather good.”

Mike swallows, shifting in his seat. “You mean I could… go to Juilliard after all? You really think they’d let me back in?”

“If the board votes in your favor, you could start as early as September.” She holds up her hands. “Again, I can’t promise you anything, and the matter is out of my hands from here on, but I think it’s pretty clear when someone is deserving of a second chance. As it should be to all members of the board too. Say, would you be free next Tuesday?”

“Oh, god. Yeah, absolutely. I’ll be there no matter when. Just let me know what time and place. I’m- god, just, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“No, seriously. This is… already way more than I ever dared to hope for. Thank you so much.”

She chuckles, lifting her drink to her lips and draining it before setting it back down.

“How about you buy the next round then? I’d love to continue that conversation. I’m sure Harvey has some interesting things to say on the matter as well.”

Harvey smirks. “You used to complain about my proclivity for discussing in class, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, god,” Mike mutters. “You must have been a terrible student.”

“I was a teacher’s pet. Everyone loved me.”

“Wrong on both counts,” she points out, winking at him. “But I did enjoy what you had to say, even if your timing wasn’t always… ideal.”

“ _Please_ tell me more about Harvey’s time at school,” Mike begs. “I’ll pay for the next five rounds if you just give me something embarrassing.”

“Tough luck. I’ve never done anything embarrassing in my life,” Harvey remarks dryly, but his hand finds Mike’s under the table as he waves the waiter over, the warm pressure leaving him smiling all night.

They do stay for a third round before neither of them can hide their exhaustion anymore. Mike is surprised by how late it got, the adrenaline from before and the engaging conversation having kept him sufficiently distracted from the passage of time.

They say their goodbyes outside the bar, and Mike barely maintains his composure until she’s around the corner before he lets out an undignified squeal as he turns to Harvey, gripping his arm.

“Oh my _god_.”

“You did it.”

“Shit. Shit, Harvey, what the fuck,” Mike whispers, bouncing on his feet. Harvey chuckles beside him.

“I knew you’d charm the pants off her.”

“I can’t believe you just sent me in there unprepared! I can’t believe you even asked her to come, and now I…”

“Now you’re going to Juilliard. Congratulations.”

“I haven’t gotten in yet,” he mutters, but Harvey just waves his hand.

“You will. There isn’t a shred of doubt in my mind.”

Mike bites his lip, shaking his head as he stares at him.

“You did this for me. You know how much Juilliard meant to me, and you went and-“

“All I did was give you a little nudge in the right direction,” Harvey finishes gently, and Mike, exhaling a frustrated breath because there just aren’t any words to express what he wants to say, steps in and wraps his arms around him.

“Thank you,” he mutters.

“Don’t mention it,” Harvey gives back as he pulls him closer, paying no mind to the people passing them by. “For you, anything.”

Mike swallows, but the lump in his throat persists.

“Harvey…”

He lets out a deep breath. “I know.”

He tightens his arms around him, and Mike closes his eyes and lets himself hold on for as long as the moment will last.

He’s not saying it.

He still feels it, though. In every part of him. He knows.


	12. Chapter 12

Harvey isn’t surprised in the slightest that Mike aced the informal meeting he set up, nor that he walked out of it with a date for a much more formal one with the entire board.

He’s not surprised that, the following week, Mike is a nervous wreck as he paces his apartment, fiddling with the terrible skinny tie he thought was a good idea for some reason until Harvey can’t watch the pitiful scene anymore.

“Here,” he says as he returns from his bedroom a few minutes later, holding up one of his own that he always thought resembled the blue of Mike’s eyes rather charmingly. “Wear this one instead. It’s more professional, and it suits you better anyway.”

Mike stops in his tracks, staring at him.

“You’re giving me one of your ties?”

“I trust that you’ll take good care of it.”

He waits, but when Mike just continues to stare, showing no signs of moving anytime soon, he steps closer and pulls the skinny tie loose, taking matters into his own hands.

Mike is frozen in place as he discards of the atrocious piece of clothing and swaps it for the much better satin tie, his throat bobbing as he glances down to watch the swift movements of his fingers.

“This probably cost more than my salary for the entire play.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Half your salary at most.”

“But will it bring me luck?”

Harvey looks up to meet his eyes.

“You don’t need luck. You’ve got this.”

Mike swallows again.

“I got it,” he echoes, probably more to convince himself than because he really believes it.

Harvey finishes straightening his tie, then regards him quietly and, on impulse, leans in to place a soft kiss on his lips. Mike reciprocates immediately, and he lingers for another beat or two before he draws back, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Just be yourself. You’ll blow them away.”

Mike takes a shaky breath, but nods, more assured this time. His eyes move to the clock when Harvey steps back to bring some space between them.

“Okay, I should go.”

He’ll be at least twenty minutes early if he heads out now. Harvey suppresses a smile. Looks like his lessons did leave some sort of impression.

Mike throws his bag over his shoulder, touching his tie absently as he looks around the room to check if he forgot anything before his eyes land on Harvey.

“I guess I’ll see you on the other side.”

He smiles. “Break a leg, honey.”

Mike’s jaw twitches before he returns the smile and, with one last look at him, turns to go.

And Harvey isn’t surprised in the slightest when, two hours later, he practically barges into the apartment, his cheeks flushed and his eyes gleaming.

“They’re letting me back in. I’m not getting my scholarship back, but they’re letting me back in, Harvey!”

He barely has time to process his words before he finds himself with his arms full of Mike, the disbelieving laughter bursting out of him uncontrolled, like he barely managed to hold it in long enough to get here, and Harvey can’t do anything but join in.

“I knew you could do it. Congratulations. You should be proud of yourself.”

 _I know I am._ He still is, always, the fierce sensation taking hold of him every time he looks at Mike, but especially now.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispers into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe this. What is my life?”

Harvey tightens his arms around him, inhaling his scent as he shuts his eyes.

“I’m so happy for you, Mike.”

He is. He really is. He deserves this, no one deserves it more than him, and Harvey is ecstatic that he’s finally getting the chance to do what he always wanted.

If there’s a trace of something less joyful somewhere in there too, that’s no one’s business but his own.

He lets out a deep breath, struggling to keep the guilt that’s been plaguing him more and more often lately at bay.

Because Mike isn’t the only one who’s been having meetings. Getting offers. Making plans for his future.

It’s standard procedure for this stage of a production. Harvey never wastes any time lingering, usually looking for his next job before the last one’s even done, making sure he has the best possible selection to choose from.

Several offers have come his way already, invitations for auditions as well as contracts that would only require his signature.

He _has_ a selection, and a good one at that. And he knows that he has a decision to make sooner rather than later, but still finds himself reluctant to agree to anything. He’d love to tell himself that it’s just because he’s waiting for that special something, like ‘Virginia Woolf’ was, but he knows that’s not it.

Mike squeezes him one last time before he steps out of their embrace, and Harvey swallows down the sigh on the tip of his tongue, his stomach sinking as he looks at him, the brightness in his eyes, the dimples that look like they’re etched into his cheeks as he grins at him.

Mike will be here, in the city, starting his classes at Juilliard come September. And Harvey… Harvey will move on to the next project like he always does, and chances are it won’t be in New York.

Maybe not even in the States.

There is one job that particularly interests him. That he’s pretty sure is that special something he’s looking for. It’s called ‘Good’, examining how a liberal professor in pre-war Germany came to not just join the National Socialism, but rationalize and justify his actions to himself.

It wouldn’t just be a delight to act out, but also the right step to further his career. As the professor in question he’d play the main character, having most of the lines and the spotlight to himself – a nice change after dividing the stage time pretty evenly between the four of them in this production.

It would also be in London.

Donna set up a meeting with the director for his day off next week, and Harvey does and doesn’t want it to go well. There’s a part of him that doesn’t even want to show up, but he can’t _not_ go.

It would be a dream come true. From what he’s gathered so far, it would be perfect.

Of course he wants to take it. Of course he does.

The smile slips from his face when Mike goes to check his kitchen for a drink – the situation warrants one, he said, but it _is_ early and they have a performance later that night, so something non-alcoholic will have to do – and Harvey is glad for the moment to himself to shake the disconcerting train of thought.

He hasn’t told Mike about the meeting yet. About none of the offers he’s gotten, actually, but this one in particular is something he finds himself reluctant to talk about. He wants to see what comes out of it first before he brings it up and ruins his mood for nothing.

It still feels like he’s lying to him, though. And having been accused of that once before, it just doesn’t sit right with him.

Harvey lets out a deep breath and shakes his head, willing himself to focus on the here and now. It’s just a few more days until he has the meeting, then he’ll know more. And with how preciously little of those they have left, he can’t afford to waste that time brooding.

Harvey has mourned projects he’s been part of coming to an end before. But he always managed to make his peace with it, to find enjoyment in the thought of what’s ahead. He’s never usually this aware of the time passing, of how fleeting every moment is, never so unsure about what will come afterwards, and certainly not this reluctant to find out.

But no matter how much he resists it, there is no stopping time, no button he can press to slow it all down or go back to the start. They have to move forward after this, all of them, alone or together. There’s nothing for it, nothing to do but make sure that every moment counts, that they get the most out of it while they still can.

Forget protecting himself from heartache. Forget the pain he’s inevitably going to cause himself.

This is now. This is good. And that’s all that matters.

*

_You home?_

Harvey reads the text with a quiet sigh. They didn’t have plans today, but he expected this nonetheless. Even on their days off, Mike showing up at his place is not uncommon, and it’s gotten as far as him finding himself disappointed when they _don’t_ see each other the whole day for once.

He’ll need to do something about that.

 _Yes_ , he texts back before he can go down that rabbit hole.

_Cool. Be there in five :)_

Harvey huffs out a laugh despite himself.

Mike is on his doorstep exactly five minutes later, dropping his bag on the chair carelessly and diving straight into a narration of his day that Harvey is all too happy to listen to, grateful for the distraction it offers.

“Are you hungry?” he asks when Mike has finished his tale about his grandmother. “I thought I’d cook tonight. Might as well do it for two.”

“Oh? What’s the occasion?”

He usually cooks as a means of relaxation when something’s occupying his mind, which Mike must have picked up on at some point.

Of course he did.

“Nothing. I’m just in the mood, that’s all. Stir-fry with rice sound good to you?”

He agrees, and Harvey gets to work in the kitchen. Mike trails after him, pulling himself onto the counter rather than offering his help, but Harvey doesn’t mind. He did want to cook to have something to do with his hands, the routine movements offering at least a small outlet for the growing restlessness inside him.

“Have you read up on what kind of classes you’re gonna take come September?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mike confirms. “There’s a class on movement, which I’m definitely gonna try out. Maybe I can take another one on top of that.”

“Don’t overstrain yourself. You have four years ahead of you, you’ll get to everything in time. Besides, you’re not that bad anymore.”

“Thanks,” Mike gives back, rolling his eyes when Harvey flashes him a quick smile. “You know what I really look forward to though? Stage combat. How cool is that? I’m gonna learn how to fence and stuff, just for the hell of it.

“That one’s fun,” Harvey agrees. “Louis and I once got into a fight and nearly stabbed each other. It was a good time.”

“ _That_ was a good time?”

“Don’t pretend you’ve never wanted to stab Louis when he annoyed you.”

“I’ve wanted to stab _you_ ,” he muses, grinning when Harvey turns to him with a dry look.

“Bold thing to say while I’m holding a very sharp knife,” he points out, stepping closer when Mike just lifts an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t hurt me. Badly.”

The smile falters on his lips, and he drops the knife, avoiding his eyes. “Not intentionally, at least.”

If there’s something in his voice betraying the direction his thoughts are taking, it thankfully goes past Mike.

“I wonder if I’ll have a nemesis too. Or should I say frenemy? That would be awesome.”

“Another thing to look forward to.”

“Totally. And you know what else I look forward to?” Mike wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Ballroom dancing.”

“What, you can’t dance already?”

“You think I had money to pay for lessons, growing up?” He scoffs. “Besides, I never really had a reason to learn it. But now I want to. And then I can give you a demonstration of my talents, and you’ll make fun of me, but you’ll secretly like it. _That_ will be a good time.”

He sounds so convinced, so sure of what he’s saying – like there isn’t a shred of doubt in his mind that the picture of the future he’s painting will come true. He doesn’t feel the same dread accumulating in Harvey’s stomach, doesn’t care about the uncertainty of what’s ahead for them, somehow still believing that it’ll work itself out.

He doesn’t know what Harvey knows.

How can he tell him, though? How does he begin to tear down the future he’s already building up for them in his mind?

There is nothing he could say in response to the vision he paints, nothing to make this any better, and even though he knows it’s not going to help, Harvey gives in to the only thing still clear in his mind, the instinct to get closer, and leans in to take his face in both hands and bring their lips together.

Mike kisses him back immediately, his hands closing around his wrists as he smiles against him, and Harvey squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the tragedy of it all, but to no avail.

He can’t do this.

Drawing back, he lingers for the span of a painful heartbeat, cherishing the closeness before he straightens with a deep breath.

“Mike, I had a meeting today.”

Blinking at him, Mike sits back. He’s probably wondering why he didn’t hear about it before, and rightfully so – if it had been about anything else, he would have mentioned it days ago.

“Oh? What kind?”

“With a director. He wants me as the lead in his new play.”

Mike raises his eyebrows, his lips curving into a slow smile. “That’s amazing! What is it?”

“It’s called ‘Good’. I don’t know if you’re familiar with it.”

“By Cecil P. Taylor? Oh, that’s a great one.” Mike’s eyes widen. “You’d play the professor?”

Harvey nods.

“Wow. That’s awesome! Are you gonna go for it?”

Harvey sighs quietly. “Hold on. There’s something else.”

Mike frowns, the tone of his voice finally tipping him off that something’s up, and Harvey exhales deeply before he makes himself say it.

“It’s in London.”

Mike blinks at him, the incomprehension on his face giving him an almost childlike look before the words sink in. A series of emotions flicker over his face, none of which Harvey wants to examine too closely, finally settling on a hardened mask that is somehow even worse.

“In London,” he repeats hollowly.

“Yes.”

“You’re leaving. You’re… leaving. For London.”

“I haven’t accepted the offer yet.”

“But you’re going to. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Why you haven’t told me before and why you’re telling me now. You’ve already made up your mind.”

Harvey presses his lips together, looking away.

“When?” Mike demands to know.

“I’d have to leave right after the last show.”

“Fuck.”

Harvey puts a hand on his knee, trying to speak, but he pushes him away before he can get out a word, shaking his head.

“No, don’t touch me right now. Don’t- I mean, does this-“

He breaks off, letting out a frustrated breath. Harvey still itches to touch him, but makes himself stay back, keeping his distance.

“This is what I’ve been telling you all along,” he says quietly. “This was always going to happen, Mike. Sooner or later, one of us was going to have to leave.”

Not that the fact makes it any easier. Mike seems to agree, if the indignation passing over his face is anything to go by.

“Alright, yes, you did tell me that. So what? Right now, all I know is that you’re going away. That you’re leaving me, as soon as the play is over, and that fucking hurts, Harvey, so forgive me if I’m not being _rational_ about this."

Harvey exhales quietly, pinching his lips. Of course he’s hurting, as much as it pains him to be the cause of it, but can’t he see that he isn’t the only one? That this is hard for him too?

“Mike, can we just-“

“You know what? Fuck this. I’m out of here.”

“Mike,” Harvey tries, but he pushes himself off the counter and brushes past him without another word. He grabs his bag and turns to go, not gracing him with as much as a look on his way out.

The door falls shut with a bang, and Harvey is alone with the sudden silence surrounding him, so much louder somehow than it was before.

Well, a small voice in his head notes, he had better get used to that anyway. Might as well start now.

He lets out a sigh, turning around to head back to the kitchen. He picks the knife up again, glaring at it like it caused this whole mess before shaking himself and getting back to work.

He cooks for two anyway, not because he expects Mike to come back tonight, but because he hopes he does and he wants to have something for him, just in case.

Barely managing to force down one plate, he puts the rest away and settles in his living room with a drink, hoping to at least have a productive evening if nothing else.

He’s halfway through ‘Good’, a stack of previously blank pages filled with notes and annotations next to his copy on the table, when a knock on the door disturbs his concentration. Closing the book at once, Harvey rises to open up.

Mike’s jaw clenches when he meets his eyes, his shoulders slumping at the sight of him.

Harvey wordlessly steps aside to let him in.

Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets once they’re in the living room, turning around to face him. He doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“I’m glad you came back,” Harvey breaks the silence.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Not sure why I did, if I’m honest. I don’t know what I’m trying to achieve, except not leave things unresolved, I guess. And… I wanted to apologize. It’s not like this is your fault or you’ve done anything wrong. Like you said, it was always going to happen at some point.”

“You have every right to be upset,” Harvey tells him quietly.

Mike gives him a level look. “Do I have the right to ask you to stay?”

When Harvey fails to respond, not knowing what to say to that, his shoulders drop further and he shakes his head with a sigh.

“I want to. But I know I can’t, I know that’s not how it works. And I wouldn’t do that to you anyway. I just- I don’t want to let you go.”

His voice breaks on the last part, and Harvey can practically see the anger falling away from him until all that’s left is the hurt at the core of it.

“Come here,” he asks, opening his arms, and Mike steps into them with a sigh, the rest of the fight leaving him as he clings to Harvey like it’s the very last time already.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Harvey murmurs into the crook of his neck. “You understand that, don’t you? It’s not that I want to go. That’s the last thing I want. But I can’t _not_ take this chance. And if it weren’t this job, then it would be another one. We wouldn’t stop it from happening, only postpone it.”

Mike lets out a deep breath.

“I know. I know you don’t wanna go, and I know this was where we were always headed. I just… I didn’t think it would happen so soon. I didn’t _want_ it to happen so soon.”

“I know,” Harvey echoes. “Neither did I.”

It doesn’t change anything, they both know that. He’s still going to take the job. They are still going to have to deal with everything that entails.

Mike seems to think in the same direction. He takes a deep breath, then pulls back, biting his lip.

“Does that mean it’s over once the play is done?”

His voice is so small that all Harvey wants to do is wrap his arms around him again and keep him safe from anything that might cause him pain, himself included. But he can’t do that. He can’t be that person for Mike. They knew that going in, having walked into this with both eyes wide open. They have no one to blame but themselves.

“It means nothing more and nothing less than that I’ll be in London for a few months. We’ll figure the rest out as we go along. If we can make it work. If we still want to.”

Mike’s face falls. “Do you not-“

“I’m talking about you,” Harvey interrupts him gently. At the look he gives him, he lets out a sigh. “Mike, if I take this job and you say that’s it, I’m not going to hold that against you. You deserve a partner who can actually be with you. Who can guarantee you more of a future than just waiting and seeing what happens.”

Mike huffs, sniffing as he wipes his nose. It sounds a bit wet, but his voice is firm when he says, “No one can guarantee that. No one can guarantee anyone anything. Life is not a given, is it? Everything’s trial and error, and if I have to do that with anybody, I want it to be with you.”

He straightens, shaking his head.

“If you think this changes how I feel about you in any way, think again. Maybe it would be better if it did, but I can’t exactly influence that, can I? And- I don’t want to give you up because of this. Maybe I’m only prolonging the inevitable heartache I’m gonna have here, but I don’t care. If the alternative is saying goodbye and never speaking to you again, then you’ll have to drag me away kicking and screaming. I can’t just see you off and be done with it. That’s not something I want. I’ll never want that.”

 _You can’t know that_ , Harvey wants to say, but he looks at the fierce determination in Mike’s eyes, and he doesn’t.

“Then that’s not what we’re going to do,” he tells him instead. “We’ll take it day by day, figure it out as we go along. Together.”

Mike swallows, nodding once. They look at each other quietly.

“Do you know what I do want?” he then asks.

Harvey tilts his chin up in silent question, and Mike closes the distance between them before he kisses him. His hands wander down to his pants without hesitation, and Harvey, neither willing nor able to fight the instant desire kicking in, only pulls up his shirt and grants him access as well as he can without breaking the touch of their lips.

They walk backwards to the bedroom together, never once letting go of each other. They might have to separate soon, but they’re still together now.

There’s nothing to do but make the most of that.

*

Harvey knew things would change from now on, but it still disheartens him to actually see it happen.

Mike is different. Ever since he told him about London he’s gotten quieter, retreating to a place somewhere inside him that Harvey has no way of reaching.

It’s not that he’s withdrawing from him. He still smiles, and jokes around, and they have a good time whenever they hang out, but there’s an almost palpable melancholy to him that Harvey wishes he could dissipate somehow.

Of course, being the reason for its existence in the first place, there’s not all that much he can do about it. He knows that there’s no way he could have prevented this; at one point they would have had to face reality and deal with their imminent separation anyway, but there’s still a distinct sense of guilt gnawing at him whenever he looks at the obvious sadness surrounding him and remembers that it’s his doing.

He’s glad for any distraction that takes Mike’s mind off what’s ahead of them, and incidentally, the Tony Awards come along at just the right time.

It’s a pleasantly warm night considering that it’s June already and the summers in New York have a reputation of getting unbearable fast. It’ll make spending the entirety of the show in the brand-new tuxes his trusted tailor has made them a lot more enjoyable – Harvey remembers too many nights of public appearances that had Donna dabbing his forehead endlessly to get rid of the sweat accumulating there.

He is getting ready by himself for a change, since Mike is bringing his grandmother as his date and will pick her up before meeting him there, which suits him just fine. He looks forward to seeing Edith tonight, and he trusts that she’ll take care of his bow tie and any other fashion- or panic-related emergencies that may occur while Mike gets dressed.

Checking the time as he heads into his bedroom to do the same, he slows down when he realizes that he still has a while left before his driver picks him up. The red carpet kicks off at five, but this is the one instance where Harvey doesn’t insist on being early or even on time, on the contrary. He enjoys the preshow up to a certain point, after which it just gets tedious.

But this is still Mike’s first award show, and he wants him to get the full experience – more than that, he wants to experience it with him. So they settled on a compromise, aiming to arrive at the same time about an hour from now. Harvey puts on his tux and bow tie, a dark blue that he knows will complement Mike’s perfectly – not that he chose it for that reason – and pays special attention to his hair until he’s happy with his reflection.

Ray is already waiting outside when he goes downstairs a little earlier than planned. It doesn’t matter; they have to make a detour to Donna’s apartment anyway, who has traditionally been his stand-in date since the first time he got nominated.

She has once again outdone herself with her outfit, the pastel satin hugging her waist tightly as she strides towards the car, the color she chose a beautiful contrast to the red of her hair.

“Looking good, Ms. Paulsen,” he says when she gets in.

“I know. I could say the same thing about you. Who are you dressing up like that for?”

“The cameras, of course,” he says, lifting an eyebrow when she glances at him.

“Right. You keep telling yourself that,” she mutters, patting his hand. He huffs, but doesn’t respond. She can tell when he’s lying, anyway.

Mike is nowhere to be seen when they arrive a few minutes early, which doesn’t surprise him. He uses the time to let the photographers take some pictures already, only remembering now that he’s confronted with it again how loud and penetrating the screams and cheers from the people behind the barriers actually are. It’s something entirely different from the small crowd accumulating when they do stage door, and while it’s kind of fun for one night, he’s rather happy to keep those occurrences to a minimum.

He does look forward to seeing Mike’s reaction to it, though. He deserves to have a fuss made about him.

He doesn’t have to wait all that long. Time passes in a blur in the flurry of camera flashes, and Harvey finds himself right in the middle of it as he meets old colleagues and acquaintances, new people eager to introduce themselves to him, and journalists and interviewers demanding his attention. He’s prepared to answer the same questions over and over by now and does so without complaint, all the while wearing his most charming smile and the friendly, yet aloof mask he has perfected for the cameras.

Yes, he is very excited to be here. No, he has no idea who’s going to win because the competition is just so good, but it’s an honor just to be nominated alongside so many incredible plays. No, he did not bring a date other than his assistant, just like the past year and the one before that. Yes, it is a privilege and a joy to be part of ‘Virginia Woolf’ and a team as talented as their cast and crew.

“It’s been particularly enjoyable for me this time,” he adds in response to that last question, the only answer he hasn’t rehearsed in advance to reproduce again and again over the years. “Working alongside Mike Ross, who plays my Honey, has shown me sides to this job that I forgot about in my years on stage. You’d think it was the other way around, but just because I’m more experienced doesn’t mean I don’t have a lot to learn from him as well. All four of us have been consistently teaching and learning from each other all throughout the process. Sharing a stage with Louis Litt and Sheila Sazs is a privilege in any constellation, but this one in particular just… clicked. We really hit it off, despite any differences we may have had along the way. It all brought us to where we are now. I’ll count myself lucky if I ever get to work with any of them again.”

One of them in particular, but the interviewer doesn’t need to know about that.

“Showing your hand a little?” Donna murmurs as she leads him to the next guy waiting for him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he gives back, his smile firmly in place as he waves at the people nearby. “Am I not allowed to talk about my castmates and give them credit where credit is due?”

“You are, but you were focusing pretty heavily on Mike there. I’m just saying, people might notice.”

“I did mention Sheila and Louis as well.”

“As an afterthought, yes.”

“Nonsense. Where are they, anyway? I’m sure I saw them around earlier, but they’ve disappeared.”

“Maybe it’s best if you don’t know,” Donna says and pats his back.

“Really? Here?”

“If not here, then where?” she counters.

“Ugh. And you say _I’m_ obvious.”

“Well, you are.” She touches his arm, glancing over his shoulder. “Now, don’t look too excited, but your date just got here.”

“I thought you were my date.”

She just throws him a look, and he gives her a small smile, nodding before he turns around and lays eyes on Mike.

He lights up as soon as he sees him, one hand supporting his grandmother while he gives him a wave with the other one.

Harvey waits until he’s passed the first flock of photographers, posing with Edith and on his own before making his way to him.

“Hey, sexy,” he says, grinning at him. “Do you come here a lot?”

“I’m around sometimes, yeah. You, on the other hand, I haven’t seen here before.” He gives him a once-over, allowing his appreciative gaze to linger until Mike puffs his chest, practically radiating smugness. “I knew introducing you to René was a good idea. You look very handsome.”

“Not sexy?”

“I didn’t say that. And I’m not going to, not with your grandmother right behind you. Edith,” he adds a little louder, smiling at her when she catches up with them. “You look amazing as always. That’s a wonderful outfit you’re wearing.”

She chuckles as he puts a hand on her elbow, bending down to kiss her cheek. “I haven’t had many opportunities to dress up lately, so I have to make sure I use the ones I get.”

“Rightfully so.”

“I have to say, you’re looking quite good yourself, Mr. Specter. I thought Michael was a sight for sore eyes when I saw him in that tux, but you are something else.”

“Hey!” Mike gasps. “What the- that’s so offensive. I can’t believe you’d say that.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, darling. You know you’re always the most handsome man in the room through my loving eyes. But I’m sure you’ll agree that Harvey is a sight to be appreciated, don’t you?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible, but is soon distracted when Donna shows up next to them.

“Oh my god, Donna. Wow.”

“I know.” She winks at him. “You’re looking quite handsome yourself, puppy.”

“It’s Top Dog now, actually.”

Harvey and Donna snort at the same time.

“In your dreams.”

“Wow, can you all stop bullying me during my first red carpet ever? Just let me have this.”

Harvey huffs out a laugh. “You’re right. This _is_ your first big event. Go on and enjoy it.”

“Yes, do that,” Donna agrees. “Actually, you two, go take some pictures together. I’ll take care of your lovely grandmother in the meantime.”

Harvey catches her eyes as she leads Edith away, returning her suggestive wink with a dry look. Then he turns to Mike, lifting an eyebrow.

“Ready for round two of facing the photographers?”

“I mean, everyone is pretty much taking pictures of us at any given moment, but yeah, I’m ready.”

“I’d says so.” He leans in a little as he waits for the couple in front of them to clear the spot, uttering under his breath, “You do look sexy, honey.”

“Oh, you think?” Mike asks, grinning as they step into the storm of flashlights, putting one arm around each other naturally while they pose for the pictures.

“Definitely. Your ass in those pants… I don’t think there’s a single person here who hasn’t been staring. Myself included.”

Mike suppresses a surprised laugh. “Nice. The one time you decide to drop the act is in front of a thousand cameras.”

“Now there’s a thought. You, me, those pants you’re wearing, a few cameras…”

“You’re gonna make me blush in the photos,” Mike mutters, biting his lip as he tries to keep his smile even. Harvey chuckles.

“That’s the idea. It does look so enticing on you.”

“Oh, god. Stop!”

He laughs again, but does as he asks. “You know what?” he murmurs instead, lifting an eyebrow as he glances at Mike from the corner of his eye. “Jessica’s already here. With Jeff as her plus one.”

This time Mike’s smile does drop before turning into a gleeful grin. “No fucking way,” he whispers, giggling when Harvey squeezes his waist a little, knowing it’s his one ticklish spot.

“Come on,” he says after posing for one last picture, his hand on Mike’s shoulder, the smile on his face entirely genuine. “Those reporters are dying to talk to you.”

Rather than heading inside to find Donna, Harvey stands by as Mike gets asked the same inane questions he had to endure earlier, and since most interviewers take it as an open invitation to include him in their inquiries, he suffers through another round, only to find that it isn’t so bad when Mike is beside him. That, at least, spices things up a bit – the reporters ask them about working together instead of whether or not they think they’ll take any awards home tonight, and Harvey is much happier to talk about that, especially with Mike discussing whatever question they ask him animatedly, waving his hands and laughing in a way that doesn’t seem fake in the slightest.

Eventually they catch up with Donna and Edith, the latter of which promptly gets sucked into the interviews too, and Harvey leaves the Ross family to charm the reporters, seeing if he can’t find Sheila and Louis inside.

He locates them soon enough as he enters the big hall, not just together like he expected, but actually hand in hand, a fact that makes him raise his eyebrows as he approaches them.

“There you are. Sheila, you look stunning.”

Not usually one to be caught in a long dress, the black-and-gold waves flowing down the length of her body make for an unexpected, but almost ethereal sight. His eyes wander to Louis beside her, the pattern on his tie and pocket square complementing the dress perfectly.

“And so do you, Louis. I’m guessing the fact that you two match isn’t an accident?” he asks, nodding at their entwined hands.

“You know, Harvey, we’ve been keeping a low profile long enough. Our run is almost over and the play’s been widely successful, so this can hardly be considered a publicity stunt anymore. And even if some idiotic reporters who have nothing better to do than gossip about other people’s personal lives say otherwise, we don’t really give a shit about that.”

“We don’t have anything to lose by making it official,” Sheila adds with a shrug. She turns to Louis, and her eyes soften uncharacteristically when she adds, “And everything to lose if we don’t.”

Harvey takes in the quiet devotion between them as they exchange a look, almost tangible in its intensity, and he’s struck by how wistful it makes him feel.

It’s so easy for them. They don’t seem concerned about the future of their relationship, or whether or not they’ll have one at all – there’s no doubt about their feelings and that they will endure, even after the play, even if their next jobs force them apart.

Harvey doesn’t doubt that his feelings for Mike will endure, not anymore. They run too deep, having seeped into every part of him now, taking root there more and more with every passing day.

But he’s still leaving. They’re still parting ways, sooner than he wants to think about, and no matter how deeply he cares for him, he has no control over what happens then. If they’ll make it work, or if this will ruin them and leave them both bitter and heartbroken, a hollow yearning inside them that they can never satisfy the only thing that remains of all this.

How depressing.

Sheila and Louis, on the other hand, don’t even seem to consider that a possibility.

He wishes he had the same kind of faith.

“I think you’re right. I’m happy for you both, really. And this is as good an occasion as any to go public, I suppose.” He lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Big night for both of you. Nervous?”

“Not really. Nothing we can do to influence the outcome, right? Objectively, we all know that Sheila and I deserve to win as much as Jessica and the play. We’ll see if they have the good sense to act accordingly. If not, we just have to accept it and move on.”

There’s a remark about Louis and his distinct inability to _accept things and move on_ threatening to slip past Harvey’s lips, but he swallows it down because he’s comparatively tame in contrast to their Juilliard years these days, and he may not be calm, but he’s most definitely calmer than he used to be, and that counts for something.

“Well, with a bit of luck you won’t have to,” he says, briefly touching his arm in encouragement.

Over his shoulder he spots Mike and Edith with Donna at their designated seats, and he excuses himself and makes his way through the people, stopping to chat with an old acquaintance once or twice before he takes his seat next to Mike.

It was supposed to be Donna’s, judging by the name tag, but she has taken the liberty of moving over one so that he’ll be sitting between Mike and her instead.

“Thanks,” he mutters when he leans back. She just smiles and pats his hand.

“How are the lovebirds doing?” Mike wants to know.

“They’re great. Decided to go public today, apparently.”

“Really? Good for them.” Mike smiles, only a touch sad before he asks, “And Jessica? I still haven’t seen her.”

“You will soon enough. The show is about to start.”

Jessica indeed turns up a few minutes later, a dashing Jeff Malone in tow, and Mike gapes as he stares back and forth between them, clearly not knowing where to look first.

“You… you both look very good,” he eventually gets out, and Jessica just chuckles, her smirk softening when Jeff takes her hand.

Sheila and Louis join them as well, and Harvey settles in, waiting for the actual show to begin.

The Tony’s are usually good fun, and while he’s not familiar with the host they chose this year – some actor from a popular TV show he has no interest in, which Mike was shocked to discover – he knows most of the presenters, having worked with a good number of them before, and he looks forward to seeing them and catching up later.

He alternates between watching the performances on stage and watching Mike’s reaction to them as the show progresses, providing some entertainment before they announce the first category.

“Oh, god,” he mutters, leaning back in his seat with a deep breath, all traces of laughter about the jokes the presenter made disappearing from his face. “Here we go.”

“Relax,” Harvey murmurs, brushing his hand briefly before retracting it again, aware of the cameras around them. “It’ll be fine.”

Despite his calm exterior, he feels a flutter of anticipation in his stomach as well, becoming more and more pronounced the closer they get to their categories.

Best Actor is up first, and a striking middle-aged actress Harvey recognizes from the last musical he saw on Broadway waits for the applause to die down with a smile.

“The next award will go to one of the following actors, whose magnificent and inspiring performances were a truly invaluable contribution to theater this season. The nominees for best performance of a leading actor in a play are…”

The camera focuses on every one of them as their names are being read, Louis’ face displaying a hint of impatience, much to Harvey’s amusement, and he keeps his eyes on him when all of them are shown next to each other just before the reveal.

“And the Tony Award goes to… Louis Litt, ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’!”

Louis punches the air as the music starts playing, turning to place a sound kiss on Sheila’s lips before he rises to accept the award.

Mike’s grin is as wide as his face, and Harvey couldn’t suppress his own if he wanted to, squeezing his hand firmly before clapping alongside everyone else, because Louis wasn’t wrong earlier – he does deserve this recognition.

“I can’t say this is unexpected,” Louis begins his speech, earning himself a few chuckles from the audience. “But it’s still deeply satisfying to have your work not just seen, but rewarded. Though one might argue that playing this part has been reward enough, which would be a cliché, but it would still be true. George is a dream – not just because of the incredible source material, but because of the people I got to make it come alive with. Jessica, thank you for your outstanding vision and relentlessness in bringing this play onto the stage. Harvey, thank you for suggesting me for the part in the first place. Mike, thank you for the fresh air you brought into this production and reminding us all of what drew us to acting in the first place – the joy it brings us. Sheila, there are no words fit to describe what I want to express, so I won’t bother. My time is up anyway. You know, my love.” He raises his award. “Thank you.”

Mike turns to him as Louis leaves the stage, shaking his head. “What the hell. That was so sweet.”

“He can be when he wants to,” Harvey agrees, nodding at Louis when he returns to their row.

The exhilaration of their first win doesn’t dampen as the next categories are announced, only flaring up more when they reach Best Actress.

“It’s a sure win,” Donna murmurs next to him as the nominees are read out. Harvey is inclined to agree, though he’s usually more reserved about making judgments, but Donna is rarely wrong about these things.

“The others were good too,” he gives back anyway.

Donna huffs. “Yeah, but not as good as her.”

She’s right. And evidently the two of them aren’t the only ones who share that opinion, because a few seconds later the presenter announces, “The Tony Award goes to – Sheila Sazs!”

“Told you,” Donna says with a smirk as their entire row erupts into applause.

Sheila stands up, raising Louis’ hand to her lips before letting go to accept her award.

“Look at her,” Mike whispers, watching her get on stage in awe. “This is incredible. Do you think-“

“No idea. Could be,” Harvey says, knowing what he’s asking before he even finishes the question.

“Well, even if we don’t get best revival, there’s still enough reason to celebrate. They deserve this so much.”

Mike does too, but before Harvey can tell him that, Sheila begins her speech.

“Wow. This isn’t my first time here, but I have to say, this never gets old.” She regards the shiny award before looking back up. “I’m honored to receive this, but like Louis said, I can’t accept it without mentioning the people who have helped me bring Martha to life with their hard work on and off the stage. Jessica, your genius is unparalleled, and I count myself lucky to have worked with you. What you created with us is beyond anything I dared to hope for. Harvey and Mike, both of you are a pleasure to share the stage with that I look forward to every day. And Louis…”

Her expression softens when she finds his eyes in the audience. “I’d say you’re the George to my Martha, but thank God you aren’t. You are my Louis. And that’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”

“And to think this all started with me getting emotionally scarred,” Mike mutters next to him. “I’m not even mad at them anymore. How far we’ve come.”

“Yeah. All of us,” Harvey agrees with a glance at him, and when he catches his eyes, Mike smiles and leans into him briefly.

Their lucky streak stops in a disappointing turn of events when Jessica loses to the director of ‘Take Me Out’, which leaves a sour taste in Harvey’s mouth despite her graceful smile as she accepts defeat.

The show progresses, several performances keeping the guests entertained in between the announcements, but Harvey finds himself itching in his seat despite the admittedly good program, waiting for their final category. He wants to win, of course he does, but never in his life has he wanted it less for himself and more for someone else, and not just because Jessica deserves it even more now.

First and foremost, it’s about Mike. Seeing how happy he was for Louis and Sheila, he finds himself with the burning desire to see his reaction if the play wins. Because as much as the other awards are for all of them, that one would truly be for Mike too, and he wants that for him more than he wants the recognition of his own work by a long shot.

He wonders if it feels as long to Mike as it does to him before they finally get to Best Revival, but he doesn’t complain. In fact, he becomes quiet as a mouse as the presenters talk about the importance of theater, the outstanding performances every actor involved in the plays delivered, and some other inspirational phrases that Harvey would have appreciated more in any other situation.

“Nominated are the following plays.”

Finally.

It could be any of them, really. ‘The Real Thing’ was extraordinary, and while Harvey hasn’t seen ‘All my Sons’, he’s heard great things about it. The reception of their play was amazing, better than he could have hoped for, but that’s no guarantee for anything, and as he listens to the names of the nominees, he really doesn’t know if they’ll beat the competition or not. Even Donna is uncharacteristically silent next to him, unwilling to make a prognosis as they await their verdict.

“And the Tony Award goes to…”

Mike sucks in a sharp breath, completely still beside him. On impulse, Harvey takes his hand and locks their fingers together, not giving a shit about the cameras. The pause can’t last longer than a few seconds, but it feels endless to him, everything slowing down as his nerves stretch to breaking point.

“’Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’!”

Thunderous applause erupts in an instant, but Harvey barely registers it over the rustling in his ears.

“Holy shit,” he hears Mike gasp, cutting through the noise crystal-clear. His grip is tight on Harvey’s hand, and when he looks at him, his heart skips a beat at the disbelieving, but unadulterated joy on his face.

“Mike,” he just says, and then they’re hugging before he knows it, before he feels Donna pulling on him to embrace him too and Edith tugs at Mike’s hand with gleaming eyes, before he rises alongside Jessica, Louis, and Sheila to get up on stage to the sound of their applause. Mike’s hand finds its way back into his somehow, pulling him along, steadying him amidst the roaring chaos around them as they gather on stage, blinking against the blinding lights.

Jessica accepts the award, turning to them with a smile when they clap and cheer behind her before holding it up for the audience to see.

“Thank you,” she says when the cheers have calmed down. “Let me start by saying that I’m not mad about losing best director.”

A few chuckles sound from the audience, and she joins in before continuing, her voice more serious, “This one… this is the award I was really hoping for. I am beyond honored to receive this kind of recognition, but it shouldn’t be and isn’t really for _me_. It’s for the incredibly talented and hard-working team that has been bringing this play to life for the past few months. This award belongs to you, all of you, who have poured your heart and souls and more hours of your time than I can count into this production, knowing that it could be special and thus making it so. Truthfully, this play ended up as something very different than what I had in mind when I first took on the project.”

She pauses for a pointed look in his and Mike’s direction that makes him laugh quietly.

“But that, I think, is the whole point. Art isn’t solitary. It’s an interaction, a process; a dynamic, living, breathing experience. That in itself is a wondrous thing.” She smiles. “But sometimes you get lucky and create something very special on top of that. I believe this play has been just that to every person involved in one way or another, and that’s how I’ll always remember it – as something incredibly special.”

She glances at the Tony, smiling. “This only adds to that. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

There’s applause again, and while Harvey joins in at once, Mike is clapping the loudest beside him, his eyes bright and shining. The urge to sweep him into his arms and kiss him until they’re both out of breath is almost overwhelming, but they’re steered off the stage before he can follow through on the impulse, saving them from surely making the front page the next morning.

Once they’re back in their seats, the rest of the show feels like hours and seconds at the same time. Not that Harvey is paying much attention to it, his own excitement as well as Mike’s barely suppressed exhilaration making it hard to focus on anything else that’s going on.

After the final category has been announced and the host wraps everything up, Harvey joins the masses of people moving outside and waits in a corner in the hall for everyone to gather. Mike and Edith are right behind him, and he accepts the hug she gives him as she congratulates him on their win, a little surprised and rather touched by the gesture. Mike is beaming beside her, his grin so wide that it might just become permanent, and Harvey thinks he’d really be alright with that.

He only takes his eyes off him when he notices Jessica coming towards them, smiling as he goes to meet her halfway. She steps into his open arms, the embrace surprisingly firm.

“You were robbed,” Harvey tells her when they part.

“Yes.” She smiles. “But I meant what I said. I have everything I could possibly want.”

He huffs out a laugh. “You still should have won.”

“You know what, Harvey? I think I did.”

Her eyes move to Jeff, the award still in her hands, and when she looks back at him, he gives her a knowing smile and nods to signal his understanding.

“Bet you’re glad now that you let me bring Mike on board,” he changes the subject, glancing at the Tony.

“I don’t _let you_ do anything,” she says, lifting an eyebrow. “But every once in a while, even a blind squirrel finds a nut.”

“Is that innuendo?”

“You tell me.”

“Another time.” Harvey’s smile falters before he shakes himself. “When it’s just you and me. Promise. I believe we have some catching up to do anyway.”

She nods. “I look forward to it. And Harvey? Congratulations. This is your win too.”

She moves on to where Donna and Mike are waiting, and Harvey watches him overcome his reservations and give her a hug with a fond smile.

Louis and Sheila find them soon, hand in hand, and he can’t help but grin at the sight, congratulating them both on their much-deserved win as well as their touching speeches.

The whole group gathers in the corner, embracing and chatting animatedly. Mike eventually disappears to walk Edith to her car and send her off after she’s said her goodbyes to everyone (Harvey promises to visit again soon, realizing with a start that he doesn’t have that much time left before he has to leave for London), and the rest of them mingle until it’s acceptable to take their leave.

“Alright,” Mike says, clapping his hands together with a grin. “Now who’s ready to party?”

They move to the impressive venue where the official afterparty is already in full swing, and there isn’t much to do but step into it and let it swallow them up.

They’re right in the middle of it as soon as they arrive. They celebrate their win, accept congratulations from all sides, drink a little more than they probably should, and it’s wonderful. Harvey introduces Mike to dozens of people under the pretense of networking, though he mostly just wants to show him off, even if it can’t be as anything other than his stage partner and good friend.

There’s alcohol and food and music, the best of the best, all the ingredients for an unforgettable night right at their fingertips, and none of them hesitate to reach out and make good use of them. They dance, by themselves and with each other, and if the person he dances with the most happens to be Mike, he certainly isn’t complaining about it. They’re still in public, so they behave, but it’s fun, so much fun to just let loose and embrace the good time they’re having, right here, right now, so amazingly exhilarated and almost unbearably alive.

It’s wonderful, and that’s all Harvey lets it be, refusing to acknowledge any other feelings that may rear their head.

He’s happy. Of course he’s happy. He’s ecstatic about their win, the roaring success of the night, the unadulterated joy he’s seeing in Mike’s eyes. And if it also saddens him, in a dozen different ways that he couldn’t name even to himself, then that’s his business and no one else’s.

This has always been his problem, the curse he’s been carrying around with himself for as long as he can remember. He was never good at sorting out his emotions, at understanding and separating them. Therapy helped with the first part, but the latter he never quite managed to work out. God knows if he ever will.

Harvey is rarely happy. Truly, _only_ happy. There’s usually something he wants, something he keeps looking for and can’t ever seem to find. That’s why he’s never satisfied, why he always wants more. Even when he’s happy, it never protects him from the sadness – sometimes he thinks it attracts it even, his next low always right around the corner just when he’s starting to trust the peace.

That’s why it’s so damn hard to trust. Why being so close to Mike only emphasizes that he can’t let them get any closer. And seeing how happy they are now is just a reminder of how sad they’re going to be once this is over. How fast it’s going to fade, all of this, the happiness of the memories paling in comparison to the pain they’ll cause later on.

But that’s Harvey’s problem. And Mike evidently doesn’t have the same one. Mike is laughing, and trying not to spill the drink in his hand as he dances with Donna, and his eyes glisten when they find Harvey’s over the crowd as they do periodically, like clockwork, as if to make sure he doesn’t get too far away. Mike is happy, and Harvey is going to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

He smiles, putting down his glass to make his way towards him from the bar and gently but firmly take over from Donna, fully intending to make the most of the night while it’s still young.

They end up at Harvey’s apartment eventually. Of course they do.

It’s past three when Harvey switches on the lights, chuckling when Mike bumps into him on the way and promptly starts giggling, attempting to be stealthy for god knows what reason. Maybe they’re still a little drunk, even though they switched to non-alcoholic cocktails some time ago.

Mike drops on the sofa like a stone, both hands on his belly as he cranes his head to look at him.

“Don’t judge me for saying this, but I’m starving.”

Harvey snorts. “I could eat too,” he says, because the nibbles he had at the party weren’t exactly filling and there’s no harm in indulging a little, not on a night like this. Not when it makes Mike happy. “Pizza?”

The question has its desired effect. “God, yes. We can share one, but only if you agree to the cheesy crust.”

“Needs must,” Harvey sighs, but goes to place their order without complaint while Mike heaves himself up and trails into the kitchen to grab two glasses of water.

“Thanks,” he says when he pushes it towards him on the counter once he returns. “Pizza will be here in thirty minutes.”

“Nice. And the crust…?”

“You know there’ll be cheese in it,” Harvey tells him, rolling his eyes. Mike smiles, but the teasing look has left his eyes, replaced by something so soft that it almost aches to look at it. As exhilarated as he was all night, he looks strangely clear and focused now.

“I know what you’re doing. You’ve been doing it all evening. Distracting me from… stuff. Making sure I had a nice time. Enjoyed myself.” He regards him quietly, his smile growing. “It worked. I had a really great night, Harvey. I still do.”

“I’m glad.”

He did, too. Despite everything, he still did. With the two of them together, how couldn’t he?

Mike purses his lips, his hand twitching on the counter like he wants to reach out.

“There was just one thing missing that would have made it perfect, you know.”

“Is that so.”

He nods, and there’s no hesitation, not a single reason that Harvey can think of to stop himself.

“Well, we can’t have that.”

He steps in to close the distance between them, wrapping one arm around Mike’s waist to pull him in while the other cradles his cheek, tilting his chin up slightly.

He only looks at him briefly before he brings their lips together, pouring everything he’s feeling into the kiss, everything he wants to tell him that he may not even understand himself. Mike makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, maybe recognition, or affirmation, but it doesn’t matter, because his arms tightening around his back tell him all he needs to know.

Neither of them is in a rush to pull back, to let the kiss come to an early end. Mike parts his lips willingly when Harvey traces the seam with his tongue, sighing. It’s the only sound in the quiet room other than the ticking of the clock and the chaste noises of their lips coming together again and again, Mike’s breathing, just slightly faster than it should be, and Harvey’s own, following the rhythm he dictates.

As deep as the kiss is, jarringly intimate with the mutual devotion they display, it doesn’t stray from the innocent side. They part eventually, staying close in their embrace until their heart rates have returned to normal and Harvey can bring himself to let go of him.

“Come on. Let’s get out of these clothes. _Not_ like that,” he adds, chuckling when Mike lifts a suggestive eyebrow. Maybe later, but not when the pizza is about to get here. Not when they can’t take their time and make the most of it.

Mike puts on the same faded shirt and sweatpants he’s been giving him since the first night he stayed over – Harvey doesn’t even think of them as his own anymore, they’re Mike’s – and goes to open up when the doorbell rings while he puts his tux away for cleaning.

The pizza is amazing, greasy and hot and the perfect antidote to their cravings, and any complaints about the crust on Harvey’s side are entirely for show. While they do chat as they eat, there are periods of silence too, the sort of tranquility that’s free of any awkwardness or the urge to speak just to say something.

The exhilaration of the night and the buzz of the alcohol slowly fade the closer they get to finishing the pizza, making way for the exhaustion that’s already nagged them when they left the party, but neither of them wants to go to bed just yet.

Harvey puts the empty box away when they’re done before he joins Mike on the sofa again rather than suggesting they get some sleep. He’s slumped down the backrest, more in the middle than on his side, and when he doesn’t budge to make room for him, Harvey gets the message loud and clear.

He sits down, leaving no space between them, and Mike drops his head on his shoulder, letting out a deep breath that’s a little too close to a sigh.

They don’t talk, each hanging after their own thoughts, though Harvey assumes they’re probably not all that different. He closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of Mike’s hair as he listens to his breathing, letting it carry him into an almost meditative state.

“I’ll remember this night,” Mike breaks the silence eventually, his voice little more than a whisper, and Harvey is struck by the melancholy in it. “And not just because… it’s what I do. I’ll remember everything about this. For the rest of my life.”

It sounds too much like a goodbye already, too final, but no matter how reluctant he is to accept the fact, it isn’t premature in the slightest.

Time is flying. They only have three more weeks ahead of them before performances end and Harvey gets on a plane to the UK. The number is vanishingly small, and there is nothing they can do to stop it or slow it down.

He lets out a deep breath, shifting to wrap his arms around him. Mike cuddles up to him immediately, and Harvey runs his hand up and down his shoulder in gentle circles.

“It was good, wasn’t it?” Mike murmurs.

“Yes. All of it.”

Mike glances up, and at the look in his eyes, Harvey can only bend down to kiss him again. The angle is a bit off, making it impossible to maintain their position, but it’s enough for a bit of connection, a bit of comfort.

“We need to go see your grandmother,” he says when Mike has settled back in against his shoulder. The _before I leave_ goes unspoken.

He grasps his hand, firmly locking it with his. “We will,” he promises.

Three more weeks. Just a fraction of the time they already spent together. How much more can they squeeze into that? How many memories can they make before they go separate ways, not knowing if things will ever be the same again?

“I still don’t want you to go,” Mike murmurs, barely audible. Harvey’s chest tightens at the small sound.

“I know.”

“But I know what you’re leaving for. It’s… all this. Everything you gave me when you brought me into this production. Nights like tonight. So I get it.”

Harvey doesn’t say what he’s thinking, that there can be no nights like tonight, not when Mike isn’t there with him to experience it by his side.

“And I hope,” Mike carries on, faltering before he continues, his voice thick, “that this play is everything you’re imagining. Everything you want from it. Because you deserve that. I hope you’re going to have the time of your life, like I- like we did on ‘Virginia Woolf’. I want that for you more than anything.”

 _Did._ Past tense. He doesn’t know if it was a slip of the tongue or on purpose, but it’s heartbreaking either way.

“But god.” His voice cracks. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

No one, not a single person Harvey has ever known, had the power to cut him open like this. To break through his every barrier and get straight to his core with a single sentence, or a look, or one touch of his body.

“Mike,” he says, and it’s everything he hasn’t told him out loud, in the only way he can say it right now. Mike lets out a deep breath, curling up against him as he buries his face in his shoulder.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” he whispers.

Neither does Harvey, but he gets that it’s different for Mike, that it’s even worse than it is for him.

This was his first, after all. And Harvey was with him every step of the way. He has never known anything else, and no matter what comes afterwards, there’s always going to be a part of him that will compare it to this.

Harvey exhales slowly and lets go of his hand, wrapping both arms around him instead, holding him as close as he physically can.

“Look,” he murmurs, brushing his temple with his lips. “I don’t know what the future is going to look like. And that scares me too, I can tell you that much. But what I do know is that there are exciting and wonderful things ahead for both of us, and I know I’m gonna want to hear about them. I may not be there with you, but you were always going to go your own way after this. That doesn’t mean you’ll have to lose me.”

Mike’s hand comes up to his arms as if to assure himself that he’s telling the truth, hanging on to his wrists. Harvey inhales deeply before he continues, “I don’t… make promises I can’t keep. You know that better than anyone. But what I can promise you is that no matter how late or early it is, no matter how tired I am, I’ll always have time for you. Always. And if you want to tell me about something that’s going on in your life, then I’m always going to be there to listen to it.”

Mike’s chest heaves as he lets out a deep breath, his voice rough when he murmurs, “Good. That’s good. And… it works both ways, right? I wanna hear about what’s going on with you too. Don’t cut me out just because you’re on another continent. That’s no excuse.”

Harvey huffs out a laugh at the attempted joke.

“I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to,” he tells him. He can’t see Mike’s face, but the grip on his wrist tightens briefly, and when his shoulders relax against him, Harvey closes his eyes and focuses on nothing but the warm body in his arms. He holds on to him until the painful pounding of his heart subsides as much as it’s going to.

What remains, he’s just going to have to live with.

*

There’s a noise.

Harvey becomes aware of it gradually, mostly because it’s rather insistent and loud, loud enough to make him open his eyes.

They never left the sofa last night, falling asleep where they were, and they are just as entangled, only that Harvey is now wedged between Mike’s chest and the backrest of the sofa. And he would have happily stayed where he is too, if Mike’s phone hadn’t started ringing.

He’s stirring as well, the noise finally waking him up, rolling away from him as he searches the table blindly.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah, hi. No, I’m awake. Yeah. That was… two weeks ago, actually. What do you mean, you can’t… come on. You know I have rights, don’t you?”

Mike frowns, his eyes still shut as he argues with the person on the other end of the line, and Harvey gets up to give him some semblance of privacy and start the coffee machine in the meantime, having a feeling that he’s going to need it after this.

Mike ends the call when he returns with two cups, handing him one before he sits down.

“Thanks. Sorry about that. My landlord.”

“What did he want?”

“There’s this- don’t say anything, okay? There’s this moldy spot in my kitchen that’s reaching biblical proportions, and he keeps stalling when I tell him to do something about it.”

Harvey wrinkles his nose. “You should move out of that shithole.”

Mike sighs. “You know, usually I’d argue with you on principle, but this time I’m inclined to agree. I just… can’t be bothered to look for another place. Not right now. Maybe after the play, when I’ve got the summer off before classes start.”

He sounds less than thrilled by the prospect, the end of their run probably as off-putting as having to look for an apartment, so Harvey doesn’t press the issue.

“Breakfast?” he asks instead.

Mike blinks up at him, smiling as his hands curl around his cup. He looks unbearably cute, the sleep still sitting in the lines of his face, his hair an absolute mess, and Harvey thinks that the affection crashing over him at the sight is going to drown him any moment if he doesn’t look away right now.

“I could eat.”

“Of course you could. Should we order in or make something? I have eggs. Pancakes shouldn’t be a problem either.”

“Let’s make pancakes,” Mike decides, like Harvey suspected he would, and he turns around, hearing the soft sound of his feet on the floor as he trails after him a few seconds later.

They prepare the batter (Mike considers handing him the flour enough participation, settling down on the counter with his coffee while Harvey mixes the ingredients and prepares the pan) before they sit down to eat together, the quiet disturbed only by the odd question to pass the syrup or a napkin.

That in itself is nothing unusual; it’s relatively early, considering what time they went to sleep last night, and they’re used to sitting together in silence, but there’s something else to it today, something that weighs on Harvey every time he steals a glance at Mike when he thinks he isn’t looking.

There’s a hint of sadness lingering in his eyes that the night hasn’t taken away, seeping into every movement and every smile he gives him. Subtle, but clear enough if you care to look.

Harvey knows there is nothing he can do to take that weight off his shoulders. He knows that they both have to live with it now, and carry on despite it, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to fight it as long as he can. If he can brighten his mood for just a few minutes, he’ll consider it a success.

“Do you remember,” he begins, leaning back once they’ve shared the last pancake, “when I said that my musical theater days were behind me?”

Mike’s eyes snap to his, narrowing in suspicion. “Of course I do. Why do you ask?”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “You must have looked into it. Come on, spill. What did you find?”

“Well, I found out from your Wikipedia page that you were in ‘Mamma Mia’, but it’s not like there was much to dig up apart from that. And believe me, I’ve done my research. All I know is that you were in it, critics thought the entire thing was ‘adequately entertaining’, and there are absolutely no traces to be found anywhere online. I guess that was before people started recording shows.”

“It was. I was still at Juilliard actually, and I doubt anyone would have wanted to record it even if that had already been common practice. It was a low-budget, off-Broadway production with only eight performances in total.”

He gets up and heads for the cupboard in the living room, continuing as he searches for the inconspicuous disc he hasn’t looked at in ages, “However, we had an overeager film student on board who made it his mission to document the entire process. There weren’t any official recordings, but there was… this.”

He turns around and holds up the cover. Mike stares at him, his eyes wide as he leans in.

“Are you messing with me right now? What- what exactly is that?”

“Exactly what you think it is. This is exclusive behind the scenes material of my first and last foray into musical theater. We have pictures, scenes from rehearsals, a few parts of our opening night, and lots and lots of interviews.”

He turns the cover over in his hands, raising an eyebrow. “No one has seen this in years, and after today, no one is going to again for a long, long time. Maybe ever. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so I hope you appreciate this.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “What do you say? Wanna take a look?”

Mike’s jaw drops.

“You’re _not_ messing with me?” he clarifies, and when Harvey shakes his head he jumps up, practically snatching the disc out of his hands.

“Are you kidding me? Let’s do this!”

Harvey chuckles as he trails after him, taking it back out of his hands.

“Easy, tiger. Clean up the table first,” he instructs at the look on his face. “I’m gonna put this on in the meantime.”

Mike lets out a longsuffering sigh, but does as he’s told and loads the dishwasher in record time.

“What, I don’t have to sign an NDA first?” he asks when he joins Harvey on the sofa.

“I trust that me saying you’ll regret it if you ever tell anyone what you saw here today is enough,” Harvey gives back with a pointed look, and Mike nods seriously, pretending to lock his lips and throw the key over his shoulder. Harvey rolls his eyes, but can’t quite suppress his smile.

He wasn’t lying; the only person who’s ever seen this who wasn’t part of the production is Donna, and she is sworn to secrecy too. He doesn’t exactly want word to get out about the existence of that material – his singing voice is strong enough, but the whole thing is still slightly embarrassing – and while he trusts Mike, you can never be too careful.

“I hope you’re ready for what you’re about to see.”

“Oh, I’m so ready, you have no idea. Wait, wait, tell me what part you played first.”

“Sophie’s fiancé.”

“Oh, good god. This is gonna be amazing. Are you singing in this? Do I get to see you being cheesy and romantic?”

“Find out for yourself,” Harvey says and presses play, leaning back when Mike lets out a disbelieving laugh as he stares at the TV.

No, he doesn’t usually peddle this disc around, but when he sees Mike’s unadulterated delight as they settle in to watch all one hundred and twenty minutes of humiliating material, he knows that it’s going to be worth every second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose 'Good' as Harvey's next project because it sounded, well, good. I only got the chance to read it once I'd already incorporated it into this fic and wasn't too taken by it, so let's assume Harvey's director is putting an amazing spin on the source material.
> 
> Next chapter is the one, guys. Get ready for the final show :(


	13. Chapter 13

Mike has no idea how they got here. It’s mid-July, the eighteenth to be exact, and rationally he understands perfectly how it all played out; rehearsals, tech week, opening night, his meeting with the board, the Tony Awards, and now the final performance of ‘Virginia Woolf’ that’s ever going to happen ahead of them. He understands, but he can’t for the life of him make sense of it.

This is it. The last time they’ll be on that stage together, Sheila and Louis and Harvey and him, the last time they’ll slip into these roles they know better than themselves by now, the last time the audience will laugh and gasp and stand up for them by the end of it because they touched them, because they got through somehow.

The last time he’ll be Honey, and Harvey will be Nick, and they’ll dance and fight and do the curtain call together, their hands firmly entwined like they have been every time since the very first night. The last time Harvey will act with him, by his side at any moment, there to catch him if he needs it even though he knows he won’t.

The last time.

How the hell did that happen?

Mike doesn’t have the faintest idea how to process that piece of information, how to cope with it. His Grammy told him to enjoy it when he visited her this morning, and to not fight whatever he needs to do to get through this, but he doesn’t have a clue what that even is.

There’s a part of him that just wants to curl up in a corner somewhere and cry his heart out, but most of him is too detached to really grasp the reality of it, the fact that this is actually happening, and after tonight it never will again.

It hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Never again. It sounds impossible.

What is he supposed to do afterwards? What happens tomorrow, when he wakes up and doesn’t have to be at the theater in time? When Harvey gets into a car that will take him to the airport and then so fucking far away from him, and he won’t get to see him for months, and-

 _Stop,_ he cuts himself off before he can go down that rabbit hole, the mere thought of it too much to bear. He’s not going there yet. He can’t. Not when he has one last performance to give.

He absently plays with the hem of his cardigan, exhaling slowly through his mouth. As stiff and uptight as it makes him look, he’s going to miss wearing it.

Ten minutes until showtime. Louis and Sheila are there, doing their own thing in the corner as they prepare for their cue. Mike finds himself avoiding looking at them directly, not wanting to meet their eyes, to see if they’re doing anything differently now that it’s the last time.

“Hey. You alright?”

He turns around. Harvey is coming towards him, dressed and ready to go too. Mike’s eyes catch on the dark shawl cardigan hugging his torso that he knows from experience is incredibly comfortable. He’ll miss that, too. He’ll miss seeing Harvey in it, being dipped in his arms with the wooly fabric hugging him, standing side by side when the show is over and feeling the soft sleeves rubbing against him.

He thinks he may just miss everything, come to think of it.

He clears his throat. “I think so, yeah. I just… can’t believe this is happening.”

Harvey nods quietly.

“Surreal, isn’t it?”

“I’ll say.”

Mike tugs at his clothes, his eyes moving around the backstage area as he takes a deep breath.

“I can’t believe this is it. It’s never going to happen again. All the time and effort and… sweat and tears we put into this, and then it’s just- gone.”

“Hey.” Harvey puts a hand on his back, the warm pressure a familiar comfort. “It ain’t over till it’s over. And that it’s done doesn’t take anything from the fact that it happened at all. No one can ever take that away from you again.”

“No. No, you’re right.” Mike sucks in a sharp breath and straightens.

Louis and Sheila receive their cues, looking at each other for a prolonged beat before they get on stage. Mike swallows repeatedly.

“Oh, jesus,” he mutters. “I don’t wanna go out there. I don’t want it to be over.”

It’s like the confession cuts a restraint loose he wasn’t even aware of before; as soon as he says it, he feels the truth of it in every part of him, the sheer enormity of what’s about to happen almost paralyzing him.

“Not much we can do about that, unfortunately.” Harvey takes a deep breath too, the corner of his mouth lifting despite his furrowed brows when he glances at him. “We’ll just have to make sure it’s the best damn performance we’ve ever given, won’t we? Go out with a bang.”

“Hm.” Mike lets out a quiet laugh, small but genuine. “You know, with you and me, and those two out there? I don’t think we could do anything else.”

Harvey gives him a smile, though it’s quick to fade as he regards him.

“Don’t think about it,” he advises. “Forget that it’s the last time. Just focus on the play. Focus on me.”

“Only you,” Mike adds quietly, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

Harvey bites his lip, then takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. They both inhale deeply, holding on to each other as they wait for their cue in silence.

When it comes, Harvey straightens.

“Well, this is it. Are you ready?”

Mike honestly doesn’t know, having no idea what he’s feeling right now, but he can’t be anything _but_ ready, and so he just says, “Yes.”

Searching his face, Harvey nods once.

“Remember to have fun with it,” he tells him, squeezing his hand before he lets go. Mike barely has time to smile in recognition of what he told him so long ago now before it’s time to go on stage and embrace it one last time.

And he does. Harvey is right, there’s no point in obsessing over the end, nothing to do but make the most of it and give it his everything.

Mike doesn’t play Honey tonight. He becomes him, feeling every single one of his emotions even more intensely than before, everything that defines him; his intricate love for Nick, his complexity, his insecurities and his stubbornness. He is connected to him to the fullest, to everyone on stage – to Louis, to Sheila, and to Harvey, always to Harvey.

It feels like ten minutes and ten hours have passed until the end of the final act. Time loses all meaning as they let the magic happen and bring the story to life one last time. Mike says his last line and walks off stage, a strange tightness in his chest, and Harvey joins him, and then they hear Sheila speak the final words and the subsequent stunned silence before the thunderous applause, and they’re back on stage, bowing again and again and again, like the audience wants to keep going just as much as they do.

And then it ends. They leave the stage one last time and they don’t go back out, and the applause dies down until it’s eerily quiet, and it’s over.

They’re backstage again, and Louis is surprisingly the first to let his tears fall, and there’s Jessica with a beautiful bouquet for everyone, telling them how grateful and how moved she is, and he doesn’t even notice he’s crying until Harvey gently brushes his tears away with the back of his hand, his own eyes glistening. Sheila is leaning against Louis, sniffing into his chest, and he puts his head on Harvey’s shoulder as he wipes his cheeks, finding solace in his warmth as he pulls him closer, and despite everything it doesn’t fully hit him until he looks at all of them just standing there, holding on to their flowers, not quite knowing what to do next.

It’s over. It’s really over. And it’s so goddamn bittersweet. He feels accomplished, and grateful beyond words, and relieved and robbed all at once, like he might never be able to breathe freely again.

He inhales sharply, swallowing as he straightens and shakes his head, because if he doesn’t say it now, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life.

“God. Fuck. I’m… I just wanna say thank you all. So much. I know some of you were hesitant to welcome me on board, but you never once made me feel out of place, or… like I wasn’t part of the team, and I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better cast to learn from.” He swallows thickly. “I’m gonna miss working with you like crazy.”

He can’t look at Harvey as he speaks, can’t bear saying his goodbyes to him already, but as it turns out, looking at the others isn’t much better. Before he knows it, he finds himself engulfed in Louis’ arms, squeezing all the air out of his lungs.

“I knew you were special from the start, Mike,” he tells him. “I didn’t realize just how special you were, but I’m very glad I got to find out. You may not have been my pony, but it was a pleasure to work with you all the same.”

“I think I was a little bit your pony,” Mike amends, chuckling when he pulls back. “You taught me so many lessons that I’m never going to forget, Louis. If our professional paths ever cross again, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

He turns to Sheila. “And you. It never stopped blowing my mind how someone so sweet could play someone as ghastly as Martha so perfectly. And you made it look like it was easy, too. I can only hope to be as versatile as you one day.”

“Oh, Mike,” she sighs, shaking her head as she pulls him in. He hears Harvey moving to hug Louis as well, telling him something he can’t hear while Sheila says, “It’s one of the greatest pleasures I take from this work, seeing the fresh, raw talent of the next generation. And if I can teach them something, and shape them before sending them on their way, that’s the best reward I could ask for.”

He lets out a wet laugh, blinking his tears away. “Then I guess we both got something out of this.”

He meets Jessica’s eyes over her shoulders and straightens with a deep breath, smiling as he approaches her.

“Weird that we’re here now, isn’t it? When you didn’t even want me to audition.” He chuckles when she smiles too, shaking his head. “Thank you so much for giving me this chance, Jessica. I can never repay you for the trust you put in me. For allowing me to live my dream.”

“Yes, you can,” she says. “You were right, after all. I didn’t regret it, not for a single second. You were our perfect Honey, Mike. And I know that whatever’s in store for you next, you’ll continue to blow us away.”

He swallows and nods. “I’ll do my best,” he agrees, and when she chuckles and opens her arms, he doesn’t hesitate to hug her as well.

There’s a promise in there; just because this is over doesn’t mean they’ll go back to being strangers, and while he already knows it’s going to be different than it is now, different from how she and Harvey keep in touch, he looks forward to cultivating their relationship in the years to come all the same.

“If you ever need to spontaneously genderbend one of your characters again, give me a call,” he tells her when he draws back. She laughs, and he joins in even as he wipes his nose.

And so they all make the rounds, not saying goodbye just yet – there’s still the afterparty, and none of them are in a rush to get going – but using the moment to express what there won’t be time for later. No one mentions the fact that Mike and Harvey aren’t talking much to each other. Mike does have some things to say, and he knows he has to say them, but he also knows it’s going to cost him more than he is willing to pay right now, and it’s not meant for the rest of them anyway. When he says it, it’s going to be for Harvey’s ears only.

With heavy hearts and wistful smiles, the group eventually dissolves to change out of their costumes for the very last time and get ready for the party. As Mike leaves the backstage area, heading for his dressing room – already cleared out save for the clothes he wore today – he finds himself struck by an almost overwhelming sense of loss as he looks around and realizes that he won’t be coming back here after tonight. This is the last time he’s walking these halls, changing into his clothes, waiting for Harvey to finish up in his dressing room, waving the theater staff goodnight…

The full extent of what he has to give up still escapes him. It’s too big to wrap his head around.

What is he supposed to do with that? What is he supposed to do with this new hole inside him that already feels bottomless and is only going to get bigger tomorrow?

He knows it won’t last forever. Nothing does. But that doesn’t change the fact that it hurts like hell right now.

He gets dressed as if in a trance, and when he steps outside after one last look back and switches the lights off, Harvey is already there, waiting for him with the same smile he’s been wearing every single night since they started this, and Mike pulls the door shut behind him and smiles as well, pretending that it isn’t breaking his heart.

They head to the nearby venue, their hands brushing constantly until Harvey simply takes it and twines their fingers together.

It’s just as well. Mike can use a bit of comfort right now.

The afterparty is already in full swing when they get there, and whoever was in charge of planning it really went above and beyond.

Everyone is there, everyone who worked on the production in some way, gathering to celebrate what they accomplished one last time. Rachel finds him immediately, hugging him for almost a minute until he thinks he’s about to start crying again. Jeff’s there too, and Donna, and Amy, everyone he met along the way, and seeing them all together one last time is the most appropriate ending to this journey Mike could have asked for.

And he wants to enjoy it. He wants to have a good time, and really be there in the moment, but even as he laughs and tries to follow the conversation around him over the beat of the music, his heart is only half in it. He can’t focus long enough to really join any discussions, he’s not in the mood to dance, and he’s still nursing the same drink Harvey brought him when they first got here an hour ago.

His mind keeps returning to the fact that it’s over, to the bleak reality he’s going to wake up to tomorrow, calculating how long they still have together before he leaves for his flight. He doesn’t even know the exact time he’s taking off; didn’t ask in a foolish attempt to keep it from becoming real, and Harvey never mentioned it.

It doesn’t exactly help with the faint anxiety welling up in him now. He keeps looking for him whenever they get separated or talk to someone else, following him around with his eyes to make sure he’s still there, that he hasn’t left yet. Not that he believes he’d go without him, but there’s a small, irrational part of him that thinks he’s just going to disappear, vanish into thin air if he looks away just a little too long.

At least he’s not the only one who seems to have that problem. Harvey’s eyes keep meeting his, finding him wherever he goes, whether he’s discussing King Lear with Rachel and Louis or heading to the bar to get a refill he has no real intention of drinking.

He stays there for a while once the bartender hands him his drink, grateful to get a few minutes to himself and just breathe, to forget that he’s surrounded by people he knows and cares about and yet feels totally alone. It’s not about them, as heartless as it makes him sound – it was great to see them, but it wouldn’t make the tiniest difference to him if they weren’t there at all at this point. There’s just one person he wants to be with right now, and he’s off somewhere to make his way around the room, being social and enjoying his last night in New York amidst his friends.

And Mike gets it. He wants him to have this, as long as they still get a moment to themselves by the end of it. He just doesn’t really feel like joining in on the party.

Swirling the drink in his hands, lost in thought, is how Harvey finds him again. Mike knows where he is, of course, making it a point not to stare too obviously as he talks to Jessica, but Harvey evidently has no qualms about letting everyone see where his attention lies, alternating between glancing at Jessica and lingering on him.

His gaze meets Mike’s, and neither of them avert their eyes, unwilling to break the connection. He attempts a smile and gives a small wave, and Harvey never looks away, even as he says something to Jessica. Her response has him smiling, albeit a little sadly.

They exchange a few more words, sharing an embrace that Mike feels is a little too private to watch, that looks an awful lot like goodbye, before Harvey turns his back to her and makes his way through the crowd towards him.

He doesn’t know what he saw on his face but feels a selfish surge of relief that it made him come here all the same, because he missed him.

God, how much he’s missing him already.

They look at each other when Harvey comes to stand before him, the corner of Mike’s mouth lifting a little despite the direction his thoughts have taken, and Harvey smiles too, wordlessly reaching for his hand to weave their fingers together, giving it a gentle pull that doesn’t need any explaining.

They haven’t been here nearly long enough to make an exit already, but Mike couldn’t care less about what anyone’s thinking. Most people probably know there’s something going on between them, and they’ll reach their own conclusions. He doesn’t give a shit about that.

He puts down his drink and lets himself be led out of the room without a look back.

He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to everyone on their way out. It would only make things more difficult than they already are, and he knows he’s going to see them again soon in one way or another. Everyone except Harvey, that is.

The fresh night air hitting his face is a welcome relief from the stuffy, obnoxiously noisy bar they rented for the party. It’s still warm, but pleasantly so rather than suffocating as it is during the day. He wonders what the weather is going to be like in London, if Harvey has packed accordingly. If he’ll get to enjoy the summer or just suffer through the heat with rehearsals and everything going on at the same time.

The warm weight of his hand anchors him before he can lose himself in the sorrow building up in him at the thought, and he holds on tightly, brushing the skin with his thumb as they walk.

The fact that they’re going home together was never a question. They don’t talk much, the sounds of the city filling the silence between them until Mike eventually breaks it.

“You could have stayed, you know. This was supposed to be your night.”

“I thought it was our night,” Harvey remarks.

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, but you’re the one who’s leaving tomorrow.”

It almost takes his breath away to say it out loud.

“Yes. But we all had goodbyes to say today. And if we think of this as my last night, then there’s only one person I want to spend it with.”

Mike swallows, momentarily too occupied with the tears welling up in his eyes to answer, the words he can’t say pushing against his lips from the inside, everything that wants to come out but would only make things worse. Fighting it in the only way he knows, he halts and pulls at Harvey’s arm until he turns around.

Harvey doesn’t seem to mind getting stopped in the middle of the street so Mike can kiss him. It’s probably a colossally bad idea, hardly better than giving in to the urge to cry or telling him how much he loves him, but something’s got to give. If someone recognizes them and records this, puts it all over the internet for everyone to see, then so be it. The alternative of _not_ kissing him is something Mike simply can’t live with right now.

He could have stayed there forever, frozen time and lived in the warmth of Harvey’s embrace for the rest of his days, but as close as they are now, it’s not enough. He wants more, all of it, one last time before they part ways tomorrow, and judging by Harvey’s look when they break apart and he brushes his cheek before pulling him along, he feels the same way.

They don’t bother going to the living room when they get home – how cruel, that Mike has come to think of the apartment as such – and head straight through to the bedroom instead.

Harvey’s mouth is on him in an instant, and he doesn’t even tease Mike about not losing any time to unbutton his shirt. He pulls it off Harvey’s shoulders, then draws back just long enough to get rid of his own shirt, carelessly dropping it on the floor. Harvey exhales audibly when his hands unbuckle his belt and open his pants, and the way he breathes out his name as they step out of their remaining clothes is enough to send a flash of arousal through him despite the wistful edge it has.

Mike kicks his pants away, their erections brushing as he presses up against him.

“What do you want?” Harvey murmurs as he mouths at his jaw where he knows he’s most sensitive.

“I don’t care. Just wanna feel you,” Mike sighs, humming when his hands wander down to his ass. “I need to be with you. I need…”

He doesn’t know what he needs, exactly, too distracted by the feeling of Harvey’s hands on him, but he seems to have an idea or two.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks, his hot breath tickling his ear, and Mike nods immediately. “You can do me later too, but I just…”

“God, yes. Yeah.”

His lips find Harvey’s again, and they kiss, deep and hungry, their hands wandering aimlessly until his hips buck, instinctively seeking out more friction.

“Let’s get you ready,” Harvey says when they break apart, and Mike lets himself be walked backwards until his calves meet the bed, dropping down and scrambling up the sheets immediately. Harvey is over him before he can say as much as a word, and Mike lifts his head and kisses him once more before rolling onto his stomach and spreading his legs.

Harvey stretches to get the lube and a condom from the nightstand, then settles between his thighs. Mike hears the click of the bottle as he coats his hands and spreads his cheeks, sighing.

The hair at the back of his neck rises. He can’t see, but feels Harvey staring at him, knowing exactly what kind of sight he’s making and what it’s doing to Harvey to see him like this.

It could be very uncomfortable, being laid bare without defenses, but it’s not. In fact, Mike loves it, loves knowing the hitch in Harvey’s breath is because of him, because of the way he looks.

He loves being exposed like this. Especially when it’s Harvey who sees him.

There’s a joke about his chosen line of work in there, something about the desire to show off, to be seen, but any more coherent thoughts dissipate when Harvey runs a finger over his entrance before breaching him, slow but unwavering.

Mike lets out a quiet sigh, lifting his hips off the sheets to push back. Harvey gets his finger in entirely, twisting it as he feels around.

He’s not in a rush, but wastes no time opening him up either – they’ve done this before, and he knows how much Mike can take, how he likes it, that a bit of roughness only turns him on more.

Mike doesn’t have to tell him when he’s ready; he knows.

He looks over his shoulder when Harvey puts on the condom, giving his erection a few quick tugs to lube himself up, his mouth watering at the sight.

“How do you want me?”

Harvey looks at him as he strokes himself, his pupils blown wide. “Get on your side,” he instructs after a moment of consideration, moving over to get behind him.

When Mike is in position, he lifts his leg and probes at his entrance, bringing the tip of his cock between his cheeks.

“Tell me,” he breathes out, and Mike nods, forcing himself to keep breathing as he waits for the immediate pressure he knows is coming.

“Fuck,” he curses when Harvey pushes into him, the familiar stretch somewhat uncomfortable and deeply arousing at the same time. “Go on, go on. That’s good, that’s- ah, fuck. Yeah.”

Encouraged by his affirmations, Harvey pushes in all the way, his breathing loud and hard in his ear. He’s holding back, waiting for permission to go on. He always does this, and Mike should be used to it by now, but it still touches him somehow.

He knows the discomfort will subside soon enough, and so he breathes evenly, allowing himself to grow accustomed to the deep stretch until his body doesn’t just welcome it, but wants more.

“Move,” he murmurs, making a low sound when Harvey complies. “Yeah. Yeah, like that. Again.”

He gives a few shallow thrusts, and Mike closes his eyes, nodding. “Okay. Okay, you can-“

Harvey picks up his pace before he can finish, and so he doesn’t bother to, instead grunting softly as he lets his hips snap against him in a sweet, deliciously stimulating rhythm.

His hand moves to his cock on its own account, doing nothing more than stroke softly in tune with the pace Harvey dictates. He wants to enjoy this, to really savor it. There’s still time.

He’s always loved this position, how Harvey is at the perfect angle to hit his prostate again and again, how intimate it feels to be so close to him, their whole bodies pressed together from head to toe, not an inch of space between them.

“God, Mike. You feel so good. So good. I’ve wanted to- jesus.”

Harvey’s voice is low and husky, sending shivers down Mike’s spine. He makes a keen sound when he slides his hand around his waist, joining him in tugging at his cock exactly how he likes it.

“That good for you, honey?”

A whimper escapes Mike that is only half about his hand on him. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that this could be the last time Harvey calls him that, that he may never hear how soft the word sounds when it comes from his lips again. It can’t be the last time. Not yet. Not yet.

“You like this, hm?”

He never told him this, but it’s one of the most endearing things about Harvey and it really shouldn’t be, but he can’t help it – the fact that his partner’s pleasure isn’t just a priority for him, but rather essential for his own, a necessity he can’t seem to get off without.

Not that he’d ever gotten the chance to test that theory.

“It’s amazing,” Mike whispers, turning his head to blindly seek Harvey’s mouth.

That’s the only thing he dislikes about this position – it makes it harder to kiss him, and it keeps him from seeing Harvey and looking into his eyes, watching every shift of his expression as he buries himself in the heat of his body.

He really wants to see him.

Harvey evidently shares the desire. As good as this is for both of them, they don’t maintain the position for much longer.

“On your back,” Harvey murmurs, brushing the shell of his ear with his lips, and Mike shivers when he pulls out, scrambling to roll over.

“Come on,” he urges him, and Harvey settles between his legs immediately, but stops before he pushes back in to admire the sight.

“God, you have no idea what you look like right now. I could eat you up. Take you apart. The things I wanna do to you…”

Mike licks his lips. “What are you waiting for?”

Harvey stares at him, his eyes dark with desire, before he grabs Mike’s legs and pushes them upwards, entering him and leaning down in one fluid movement until he’s pretty much bending him in half.

Mike couldn’t hold back the moan escaping him if he wanted to. He gazes up at Harvey, his face the perfect mirror image of what he himself must look like, his hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, lips glistening and parted as he drives into him relentlessly.

“Ah, fuck,” he gasps, a small sound leaving him every time Harvey thrusts his hips, and he’d admire his stamina if he weren’t so occupied with his steadily growing arousal, the heat building in his stomach at the unforgiving rhythm.

His cock is trapped between his and Harvey’s stomach, the superficial friction not nearly enough to satisfy his increasingly more desperate desire for more. Harvey gently bats his hand away when he tries to sneak it between them, instead straightening enough to wrap his own hand around him, giving him a few firm tugs.

“Oh god, yeah, yeah, that’s-“

He doesn’t find an ending to that sentence when he picks up his pace yet again, his jaw dropping as he lets out an unabashed moan.

“Fuck, Harvey.”

Mike’s fingers grasp the sheets, then clutch his back, trying to find something to hold on to. Harvey’s breathing is hard and fast, turning into something close to a growl when Mike’s nails dig into his skin, probably leaving marks. He lets go of his cock, instead running his hands up and down the back of his thighs, the reverence in his movements clear despite the strength he’s holding him down with, his chest heaving and his forehead glistening as he stares at him.

This is a first, not in how it’s a little on the rougher side – they both established early on that they’re very much into that – but in how Harvey reacts to it. How obviously it’s affecting him, how the evident struggle for control makes him come undone above him, how it seems to take him apart despite the fact that it’s him who’s doing this to Mike, not the other way around. But he supposes it’s always been a give and take between them, neither of them able to make a move without pulling the other along, locked in each other’s orbits; inexplicable and yet impossible to deny.

Harvey’s hands dig into his flesh, firmly bringing his attention back to the moment. He presses Mike’s knees towards the mattress as he bends down to kiss him, then pulls back enough to breathe out, “God, you’re amazing.”

Mike relishes the deeper stretch, sparing a thought for his regular attendance of Rachel’s classes, without which this wouldn’t go over half as smoothly. Despite the fact, he grins up at Harvey and asks, “Can’t do that at your age anymore, huh?”

Harvey slaps his thigh, barely hard enough to sting. Not that Mike minds.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Or I might just stop.”

Mike huffs. “You wouldn’t.”

“No. I know how impatient you get, after all.”

Their easy banter following them into the bedroom is nothing new, and Mike usually enjoys this part greatly, but the playfulness fades quickly this time, leaving a complicated look on Harvey’s face instead as he regards him, slowing down the pace of his hips before he comes to a halt.

Mike doesn’t complain, doesn’t move at all, only returns his gaze, having a pretty good idea of what’s going through his head.

“Yeah, you do know,” he murmurs, and Harvey’s throat bobs as he swallows.

He does. He shouldn’t, but he still does.

They were never supposed to get here. They never _meant_ to end up here, naked and entwined, knowing each other’s bodies inside and out, knowing exactly what makes them squirm and what tips them over the edge, what they taste like and what sounds they make.

But they do.

And Mike knows it’s going to hurt so much more now than it would have if he’d never known the startling intensity of Harvey’s eyes on him when they do this, the addictive warmth of his touch and the way his name sounds in his mouth when he whispers it like it’s something precious, something to be kept safe. But he still can’t get himself to regret it.

He hopes to god that Harvey doesn’t either.

There’s nothing suggesting the contrary in his eyes when he searches them, scared of what he might find there but still needing to know.

His hands never leave him, moving up and down his legs, then his hips, running over his chest until they come up to his face. Mike only realizes that he held his breath when he bends down to kiss him, making him inhale rather desperately.

He wraps his legs around his waist, refusing to release him, and Harvey doesn’t break the kiss as he holds his hips and pushes into him again, picking up a slower rhythm, his thrusts short and sweet this time.

It feels different now.

Mike is getting less prostate stimulation like this, but it doesn’t matter. He’s pretty sure the friction and rhythm of their position will be enough, seeing as he’s halfway there already.

The physical aspect moves to the background anyway as the closeness between them that has nothing to do with their connected bodies moves to the front, or maybe the two are just mingling, coming together to create something entirely new, something Mike is in no way equipped to fight and thus doesn’t even try to.

He has no control over the breathy little sounds he lets out at every thrust, something between a whimper and a moan, but they only seem to feed Harvey’s arousal, hanging on his lips whenever he isn’t looking into his eyes.

Surely there is still an outside world, but Mike wouldn’t notice if it were burning to the ground right now, too caught up in the heat and intensity of Harvey’s eyes to focus on anything else. He’s hopelessly locked into his gaze, the rhythmic movements of their bodies carrying him into a state of blissful oblivion, and Mike, overcome by the adoration building inside him alongside the steadily growing pleasure, can’t do anything but lean in to close that last bit of distance between them.

Harvey kisses him deeply, intimately, with a devotion that makes him shiver, breaking the touch eventually just to catch his breath. Instead of moving away, Harvey drops a line of kisses along his jaw until he reaches his neck, nuzzling the warm skin where Mike is most sensitive.

Sighing, he tilts his head to give him better access, one of his hands sliding around his back while the other moves to his nape, absently playing with the tips of his hair. A quiet gasp escapes him when Harvey sucks on the juncture of his neck and shoulders, grazing the skin with his teeth before soothing the burn with a featherlight kiss.

He must be leaving a mark, if intentionally or because he’s lost in the moment Mike doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care either. He wants him to do it, wants to have something to remember this night by, if only for a couple of days. He wants proof that Harvey wanted him enough for it to show on his body.

Countless things run through his head as they move together, things he wants to tell him, wants to whisper into his skin until he never forgets them again, but he doesn’t.

This is the closest he has ever felt to another person, mentally and physically. He doesn’t have to say anything, because there’s no doubt in his mind that Harvey already knows.

And so it stays quiet, the slick movements of their bodies and their heavy breathing the loudest sounds in the room. Mike loses all sense of time for the second time that night, getting caught up in a blur of all their touches and the growing pleasure inside him, all of it directly connected to Harvey, taking up all the space in his head.

His climax creeps up on him slowly, the familiar low heat in his stomach, the tension that builds and builds until it tips over, spreading into every part of him in short, sweet pulses that block out everything else, everything that isn’t Harvey around him, on top of him, inside him.

“Ah,” he gets out, and then again, _ah, ah, ah_ as his cock spurts between them, the small spasms of his body entirely incontrollable.

He’s flushed and panting when he gathers his wits again, entirely boneless and endlessly satisfied. Harvey hasn’t taken his gaze off him for a second, his chest heaving as he stares at him with hungry eyes and parted lips.

“Fuck, Mike,” he whispers, sounding wrecked. “That was so beautiful. You’re so goddamn beautiful, I-“

Mike would have loved to hear the end of it, but the urge to kiss him is just too strong. Harvey moans into the sloppy kiss, moving to pull out of him, but Mike draws back, shaking his head.

“No, stay,” he pants, tightening his grip around him instinctively until Harvey stills. “Just… give me a second.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, brushing the hair out of his forehead, wiping the perspiration from his temples. “Anything you want, honey. Anything.”

He kisses the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, the side of his face and his left brow, and Mike shuts his eyes and lets him do as he pleases, neither able nor willing to fight the feeling his tender ministrations create in him.

He’s getting sensitive, but that’s not what he focuses on, instead gathering all his concentration to catalogue every detail, every single sensation he feels right now. The weight of Harvey’s body on top of him, the stretch of his legs, the tight heat where they connect, Harvey’s lips on his face, his elevated breathing, the scent he would recognize as his anywhere; he just takes it all in, committing it to perfect memory before he opens his eyes again with a quiet sigh.

“Alright. You can move.” He runs his hands over Harvey’s chest. “Take me however you want. I’m yours.”

Dangerous, that. He shouldn’t say these things even when he feels them to be true in every part of him, but looking at Harvey now, he can’t for the life of him bring himself to care.

He licks his lips. “Stay exactly like this. You’re perfect.”

His husky voice sends shivers down Mike’s spine. He moans lowly when Harvey kisses him again, lingering on his lips before he draws back.

“I won’t take long. You nearly pulled me over the edge with you.”

“Go on then,” Mike murmurs, spreading his legs wider as he smiles up at him. “Take what you need.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Running his hands up his thighs, he pulls his hips into position and resumes his pace, his jaw twitching when Mike lets out an encouraging sound. His thrusts are hard and relentless, chasing the release he must be so close to now. Mike knows all the signs.

He sighs when Harvey lets go of his hips to explore his body instead, stroking his stomach, his nipples, the trail leading downwards from his bellybutton. He brushes Mike’s soft cock in passing, wrapping a gentle hand around him when he grunts at the stimulation. Reading the desire from his face, Mike doesn’t hold back the sounds rising in his throat, and it’s that which gives him the rest.

It only takes a few more thrusts before Harvey’s hips stutter and he finally stills. Mike listens to his breathing as he comes, holding him so close that he feels every twitch of his body, his pulse going through him like it’s his own.

“Beautiful,” Mike whispers, and the noise Harvey makes sounds like he’s in pain when he lifts his head and blindly seeks his lips again, just kissing him for the longest time, like his life depends on it.

They both groan when Harvey eventually stops and pulls out, and Mike is relieved to find that he isn’t going far. He discards the condom and retrieves a wet washcloth, carelessly dropping it over the edge of the bed once he’s cleaned Mike’s belly up provisionally.

“Come here,” Mike asks, opening his arms, and he moves into them immediately, burying his face in his neck as he inhales deeply.

“You smell good,” he murmurs.

“I’m pretty sure I stink.”

“No. You smell like us.”

Mike peeks at him, swallowing before he remarks, “Well, I’m glad you like it, because I’m not showering for a while yet. Good thinking with the condom, by the way.”

“I wouldn’t have let you leave this bed for anything,” Harvey murmurs, brushing his lips over his skin. “Certainly not for a shower. You’re staying exactly where you are.”

“What if I need to pee?”

Harvey draws back, rolling his eyes. “The one time I’m giving in to a romantic moment, and you have to go and ruin the mood.”

“Nothing could ruin the mood, dipshit. This is literally as perfect as it gets. Maybe if the bed caught on fire, but you know what? Even that could be romantic.” He stretches in Harvey’s embrace, the corner of his mouth lifting as he gazes at him. “And anyway, who are you trying to fool? You’re, like, the sappiest person I’ve ever been with.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“And yet you’re not denying it.”

“I hardly can without knowing your previous partners. Though I still doubt it.”

“Hmm, no. I think you know I’m right.”

“I think,” Harvey says, sliding his arms around him, “that we should stop talking now and just enjoy the moment.”

“The romantic moment? You mean that one?”

“Shut up.”

“Ridiculous,” Mike mutters, but he buries his face in Harvey’s chest, letting the scent fill him up until it’s all there is. He smells like them, too. It should be disgusting, and it probably will be in a few hours, but right now it’s… perfect. He allows it to wrap around him like Harvey’s arms, allows himself to get lost in it despite the tinge of bitterness it carries.

Right now, with Harvey holding him almost possessively, with Mike’s hands roaming his skin to commit the soft warmth to memory, it’s so hard to believe that he won’t get to do this anymore after tonight.

This is everything he wants, everything he could possibly ask for. It’s the safest he has ever felt, and it breaks his goddamn heart.

How is he supposed to give this up? How can he go on, not knowing when he’s going to get this again? If he’s ever going to get it again at all?

He inhales sharply, trying to breathe around the sharp sting in his gut at the thought, but it stubbornly persists. He has a feeling that it’s there to stay.

“I’m going to miss this so much,” he mutters into Harvey’s chest, just above the spot where his heart is beating.

His hand stills on his back. He must hear from his tone that this is different, that they’re no longer joking around. No more looking the other way and pretending that this isn’t happening.

“Mike,” he just says.

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I just can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.”

Harvey pulls back so he can look at his face, touching his cheek.

“You don’t have to apologize. This is… unbelievably hard, for both of us. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk about that.”

“I don’t, I just… talking about it makes it real, you know?”

He pinches his lips. “Yeah. I know.”

Mike drops his head on the pillow, not bothering to hide the emotions that must surely show on his face.

“It’s so much harder to say goodbye now,” he mutters. “But I’m still glad that we did it. That we used the time we had.”

“Me too. I don’t regret a second of it.”

He swallows, wanting to smile but finding himself unable to.

“By god, it hurts though,” he gets out. Harvey watches him silently, his eyebrows furrowed as he cups his face, brushing his cheek gently. Mike doesn’t think he’s even aware of doing it, that he can’t seem to stop touching him, even when they’re as close as they are now.

“You know why I never let myself act on the feelings I developed for other people? Why I stopped things from going anywhere before they could get serious? I was protecting myself from pain. I knew it would end up hurting me if I got invested and things fell apart.”

He brushes his hair back from his forehead, the gentle touch making Mike’s breath hitch.

“But some things are worth getting hurt for.”

Any words he might have said in response stick in Mike’s throat, so he merely leans in and kisses him.

“Besides,” Harvey adds when they part, “it’s not like I was very good at keeping my distance anyway. I couldn’t have resisted you if I wanted to.”

Mike cracks a smile. “Guess that makes me special.”

“It does. You are.”

And this from the guy who says he’s not a romantic. Mike would have scoffed, if it weren’t so goddamn tragic.

It’s almost funny, how he found the perfect person for him, and he somehow feels the exact same way, and still here they are, one night away from having to give it all up, or at least let it change in ways they can neither anticipate nor control.

“I can’t believe it’s over.” He runs his hand over Harvey’s chest, trying to feel his heartbeat, to absorb the warmth he radiates. “What happens now?”

He doesn’t really want an answer to that question, knows that nothing he could say would satisfy him anyway, but he still needs to know.

Harvey looks equally reluctant.

“We’ll just… take it one day at a time and see where it leads us.” His eyes flicker to his, and he licks his lips, then sits up and supports himself on his elbow. “Mike, I know we’ve gone over this before, but- I just want to be clear, alright? For your sake as much as mine. If we’re going do this, then I need complete honesty. From both of us. If your feelings change at any point…”

Mike huffs. “Yeah, I really don’t think they will, but… agreed. That’s the only way this is gonna work, right?”

He nods. “It is. And for the record, I don’t think mine will either.”

“We’ll just have to see if that’s enough,” Mike finishes tonelessly. “I know.”

Harvey lets out a deep breath. “I wish I could promise you something else. I wish I could give you more than this, because it’s not what you deserve in the slightest. I can only promise you that I meant it. I meant everything I told you. I’m… committed to you. To this. That’s not going to change just because I’m leaving.”

“I know that.” Mike swallows, then smiles. “And it’s not like you’re dropping off the face of the earth, right? I mean, they’ve got internet in London. I can still text you at all hours. Maybe facetime you every once in a while so I don’t forget what you look like.”

Harvey snorts. “Yeah, like you could forget _this._ ” He’s right, but Mike is not going to give him the satisfaction of saying it. He knows all too well how much he adores his looks anyway. “But leaving that aside, I expect nothing less. In fact, I’ll be pissed if you don’t blow up my phone while I’m trying to work.”

“Oh, you’re giving me permission? Awesome. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Harvey says, and there’s an underlying softness to it that manages to put a smile on his face again, small as it may be.

He glances at the clock on Harvey’s nightstand when they fall silent, letting out a deep breath. It’s been a long day for both of them, and they should catch some sleep, but he can’t give in to his exhaustion just yet. Especially not when he doesn’t know how long they’ll still have in the morning.

“When’s your flight?”

No more hiding from the truth. Time is running out, and he needs to know how much of it they’ve got left.

“At three thirty.”

So he’ll have to leave around one, maybe even before then, considering how he gets about being early. But they still won’t have the whole morning to themselves – there’s a bunch of things he still has to take care of. The suitcases in the corner of the room he didn’t want to look at before are only half packed. They’ll both need to take a shower, and Mike needs to collect all the things he left here over time and couldn’t bring himself to take home with him before.

There’s so much to do before Harvey leaves in a mere twelve hours, and yet he’s still here, with him, clearly in no hurry to go to bed or do something other than lying here and making the most of the time they have left, even if they’re doing nothing at all.

Mike takes a deep breath, pursing his lips to keep his voice steady.

“When did you plan on getting up?”

“I’ve set the alarm for nine. Still need to pack.”

“You should probably get some sleep then,” he says, attempting a smile as he brushes a hand through his hair. “Another long day tomorrow.”

Harvey exhales slowly. “I know. But not yet. Not for a while yet.”

Mike searches his eyes, then rolls over with an indiscernible sigh until he’s facing the ceiling.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye to you tomorrow,” he admits.

Harvey is quiet beside him. “You could say it now,” he suggests.

Mike huffs out a short laugh. “Not the part I was worried about,” he remarks, the smile slipping from his lips as he regards Harvey and lets out a deep breath.

“It’s stupid. I should be used to this by now, shouldn’t I? Saying goodbye. It’s what I do, all the damn time. I should be great at it, but it still sucks, and I still can’t ever get it right.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can get used to,” Harvey points out.

“Evidently not. But it’s worse this time. I knew it was coming. I saw it coming from a mile away, and I still don’t have the first idea how to let this go. All of it. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, and I’m supposed to just give that up?” He turns to him, shaking his head. “And you’re _you._ You’re… Harvey. You’re the last person I want to say goodbye to.”

Swallowing, he takes in the familiar angles of his face, the lines on his forehead that look so deep that they might as well be etched in.

“You’re the reason I found my feet again. In one way or another, you’re the reason for everything that made me so ridiculously happy these past few months. You didn’t just give me my dream. You gave me a family. And no matter what happens now, I’m always going to be grateful for that.”

Harvey lets out a deep breath. Reaching out, he places a hand on Mike’s chest, coming to rest just over his heart.

“You know what I’m grateful for? Every single day, I’m grateful that I listened to my gut and asked you to audition. I can’t tell you how much richer these past few months were than they would have been if I’d let you get away, and not just because of the professional value your performance brought to the shows. It’s because of who you are. How you touched my life, and somehow wormed your way into every part of it. No one’s ever done that before.” He smiles. “But I’m glad you did. I’m glad it was you. And for the record, you’re not the only one who got more family out of this deal.”

Mike inhales shakily, nodding. “It was worth it, wasn’t it? Everything that’s going to happen now.”

“Yes,” Harvey says simply. “All of it.”

Mike meets his eyes, then huffs.

“Well, how’s that for a goodbye?”

Harvey smiles. “I’ll take it. Probably better than right when I have to leave anyway.”

Mike can only agree with that.

“You know what?” he asks, and when Harvey lifts his chin in silent question, he says, “I’m starving.”

The sound of his chuckling is beautiful in the heavy silence.

“Let’s see if we can find anything for you then. My fridge is looking pretty bleak right now.”

“We could always order something,” Mike points out as he detangles himself from him and sits up, reaching for their clothes on the floor. They’d probably fall asleep before it arrived, but he’s willing to give it a shot.

He puts on his briefs and his shirt, then trails after him into the kitchen, taking a look around while Harvey searches his fridge.

“God, I’m gonna miss this place,” he murmurs, pulling himself up on the counter. “I’ve been spending so much time here, it feels more like home than my actual apartment does.”

He flashes Harvey a smile when he hands him a coconut yogurt with pineapple before turning around to look through the cupboards.

“Thanks. Was that your breakfast?”

“Yes. I hope you appreciate it.”

“I’m always appreciative of food, you know that.”

Especially when he’s worked up an appetite and Harvey hands him an exquisite snack like this one. He’s had this yogurt before and loved it from the first spoon he stole from him. It’s coconut-based, creamy and rich, and it tastes like something that should be part of a fancy breakfast buffet, not a regular item on someone’s shopping list.

“You could stay here.”

Mike looks up, the spoon halfway to his mouth as he lets out a startled laugh.

“What?”

“I mean it. Stay here. What’s stopping you?”

He stares at him, wondering which of the dozen reasons he should name first.

“What do you mean, what’s stopping me? I can’t just… move in here.”

“Why not?” Harvey shrugs as he turns around, unwrapping a pack of cookies and taking one for himself before holding it out to Mike, who accepts it on autopilot. “It’s not like anyone’s using the space, and I’d be more than happy to know you’re out of that shithole you live in right now, believe me.”

“I mean, you and me both, but… Harvey, this is too soon.”

“Why?” He sounds amused. “It’s not like we’ll be living here together. I’m merely offering you a place to stay so you can get out of your apartment _and_ look after mine while I’m gone. It’s a win-win situation. You can look for a new place while you’re here. I’m sure you’ll find something over the next six months.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then you’re just gonna have to stay here with me until you do.”

Mike stares at him, seeming entirely unbothered by the prospect.

“This is pretty rich from the guy who didn’t wanna start dating because there’s no telling if we’ll survive our imminent separation.”

“I don’t think we’re in the same place now as we were back then. And yes, I don’t know what my going away is going to do to us, but I meant what I said when we talked about this before. As far as I’m concerned, we’ll still be friends, no matter what. Hell, you’ve practically been living here these past few weeks anyway. This isn’t all that different. Eat your cookie.”

Mike bites into it without thinking. “You’re sure?” he asks once he’s swallowed, wiping the crumbs from the corner of his mouth.

Harvey gives him an exasperated look. “Do you want me to give it to you in writing?”

Mike glares at him as he finishes the cookie, then takes another spoonful of yogurt. It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s the best option he’s got right now. And he _would_ like to live here for a while, if only because of the foolish hope that it’ll make him feel closer to Harvey.

“I guess I could stay here,” he gives in, and Harvey’s responding smile is almost ridiculously bright.

“It would make me very happy if you did.”

“Yeah?”

Harvey nods.

“Well then. I have no choice but to go for it.”

“Great.” Harvey leans in to place a kiss on his lips. “That settles it. You have your key, but I’ll leave you a second one because I know you’re gonna forget yours all the time. Oh, and feel free to use the space I’ve cleared out for your stuff, but don’t move any of my things around.”

“What are you gonna do, fly all the way from London to lecture me about it?”

Harvey squeezes his thigh, then lets go, lifting an eyebrow. “I might.”

He won’t, but Mike smiles anyway. One can dream, right?

His eyes wander around the apartment as he finishes his yogurt, and the idea of moving in here doesn’t feel strange at all, instead leaving a distant sense of comfort in his belly.

He knows there’s more to the proposal than practicality – though he’s not wrong about that. There’s also the unspoken promise that this, whatever relationship they have right now, isn’t going to disappear just because Harvey is leaving.

As far as promises go, he’ll definitely take that one.

He puts the empty yogurt down, and when Harvey has moved it to the trash with a pointed look, he lets out a deep breath and slides down the counter.

“Come on,” he says, smiling as he holds out his hand. His exhaustion is starting to get the better of him, and he’s seen Harvey stifle a yawn twice now. “It’s late. We should try to get some sleep.”

Harvey exhales slowly, but nods and weaves their hands together. “Let’s go then,” he agrees quietly.

They get ready side by side, and Mike immediately cuddles up to Harvey when he slides between the sheets.

“Hope you can sleep like this, because I’m not letting go of you tonight,” he mumbles into his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. If it gets too much, I’ll just throw you out.”

Mike kicks his shin. “Dick.”

Harvey smiles. “I’ll do it gently,” he murmurs, silencing any further comments with a kiss.

Mike has never actually slept in here before, never shared a bed with Harvey unless they’re counting the sofa, and it’s… nice. It’s really nice, actually. Very appropriate for their last night together, too.

God, he can’t stop thinking about it. No matter how much he tries to look the other way, he just keeps coming back to it.

It’s quiet in the room as they get comfortable beneath the blanket. They aren’t speaking, but Harvey must have heard the change in his breathing, his hand running down his back as he pulls him closer.

“Try to sleep,” he murmurs, his lips brushing his ear. “We’ll still have all morning.”

 _Not enough,_ Mike thinks. It’s not nearly enough, and it’s absolutely terrifying to think that this is all they’ll get, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it, nothing to slow down the passage of time.

It’s going to happen, whether he’s ready or not, and the only comfort is that it’s not happening just yet.

He can’t fall apart already. He can’t waste any time on that. He needs to be strong, like Harvey, until he’s well and truly gone, and he isn’t yet. He’s still here.

He’s still here.

It’s hard to focus on that without remembering how preciously little time they have left, but Mike is determined to try. He closes his eyes to shut out all thoughts of the reality they’re going to wake up to tomorrow, focusing on nothing but the warmth of his embrace and the rhythm of his breathing until the tension he’s holding inside him recedes and he eventually manages to drift off.

He didn’t think he could actually fall asleep, but he must have at some point, because when he next opens his eyes, he has to blink against the light falling in through the windows as Harvey switches off the alarm that woke them.

His first instinct is to just go back to sleep, refusing to accept that this is happening.

But it is, and soon. It’s nine now, which means they have three hours left, four at the most. No time for a lazy morning in bed. No time to linger.

He can hear Harvey shift beside him, and he rolls over, half expecting to find him leaving the bed already, but despite the ticking clock he’s still there, just looking at him.

“Morning,” he says.

Mike lets out a deep breath and pulls him in, bringing their lips together. His throat feels too tight to speak, and he wouldn’t know what to say anyway, instead pouring everything that’s constricting his chest into the kiss and hoping that Harvey will understand it.

If the way he reciprocates is anything to go by, he does. He rolls on top of him, their bodies touching at several points as they wrap around each other.

As deep as the kiss is, the hint of urgency giving it a particular weight that leaves Mike’s heart pounding a painful rhythm in his chest, it doesn’t lead to anything else. He finds himself wanting to be close to Harvey in different ways, and he doesn’t initiate anything either, if because he’s not in the mood or because they simply don’t have time, he doesn’t know.

It hardly makes a difference anyway, but it does remind him of the time and how fast it’s running away from them. He squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the slick slide of their lips before he gently breaks the kiss, inhaling shakily as they both catch their breath.

“Well, that’s one way of saying good morning.”

Mike huffs, not quite a laugh, but it’s close enough.

“You should shower first,” he mutters, attempting a smile. “I’ll check the kitchen for something edible in the meantime.”

Harvey nods, kissing him once more before he gets up. Mike lets out a deep breath, staring at him until he’s out of sight before he can bring himself to leave the bed.

He hops into the shower once Harvey gets dressed, resisting the temptation to curl up under the hot stream and stay there forever only because the need to be with him is even stronger.

They have a quick breakfast together – “You’ll need to go shopping,” Harvey points out in regards to his empty fridge, and Mike nods despite the fact that nothing is less appealing to him than leaving the house today, even for food – before Harvey rises after placing an apologetic kiss on his lips, retreating to the bedroom.

Mike doesn’t want to watch him pack. He cleans the table instead, puts away all the trash in the kitchen, then cleans the counters as well for good measure until they’re immaculate, because that’s how Harvey likes it, and if he doesn’t think about the fact that he won’t get to appreciate it then it’s almost like it’s not even true.

Harvey finds him scrubbing the surface of the cupboard when he comes back. His eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly when he sees him.

“Hey,” Mike says. “All done?”

“Yeah. As are you, I see. You know I have a cleaner for that, don’t you?”

Mike shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything else to do. Having a clean kitchen is important, right? I know you care about that sort of stuff. Better start getting used to that right away.”

“You don’t have to do this now,” Harvey tells him, stepping behind him. Mike turns away, resuming the scrubbing on the cupboard. There’s a stain on the surface, small but persistent, and no matter how hard he scrapes at it, it won’t fade. He can’t believe Harvey never noticed it.

“I’m almost done anyway. I wiped all the counters, I loaded the dishwasher, and I only need to take care of this before everything’s nice and clean. Just as you like it.”

“You don’t _need_ to do anything, Mike.”

“It’s fine, Harvey,” he insists, a little sharper than intended. “I don’t mind. Just let me do this.”

“Can you stop and look at me for a second?”

“I said I’m almost done. Just give me a moment so I can-“

“Mike,” Harvey cuts him off, his voice gentle but firm. He grabs his wrist, stopping his movements. “It’s fine. You can stop cleaning the kitchen. Just… let it go.”

Mike deflates, his shoulders dropping before he turns around, swallowing as he shakes his head.

“Harvey, I can’t…”

“I know. I know. We’ll both just… have to learn to live with it.”

He brushes Mike’s cheek with the back of his hand, and he admires how even now, he can still keep his composure enough to smile at him.

It’s a heartbreaking look nevertheless, and Mike lets out a frustrated breath and steps in to wrap his arms around him, unable to bear it for another second.

Well, this is about ten times worse than he imagined.

They have half an hour left before Ray picks Harvey up, and now Mike almost wishes they didn’t, because there is nothing to focus on but Harvey’s imminent departure that won’t let itself be ignored any longer.

When they draw back, Harvey takes the sponge out of his hand and puts it on the counter without another word.

“Come on. Sit with me for a while,” he asks. The prospect of coming to a standstill and actually facing his feelings makes Mike recoil, but he nods and follows him anyway, because this is not about him.

Harvey is hurting too. And this is the only thing he’s been asking of him. There’s no way he could refuse him that.

They sit down on the sofa, their arms finding each other naturally. Harvey rests his head on his shoulder, breathing deeply, and Mike thinks he could fall apart any second, hangs on by a thread as he listens to the steady sounds Harvey makes and wills them to calm him enough to get through this.

It shouldn’t be so goddamn hard.

He knew this was coming, has known it for ages, and he’s done everything in his power to prepare for it. But how much can you really prepare for something like this? How much of a difference does it make to know that you’ll be hurting? It takes nothing from the impact of whatever’s causing the pain you were trying to get ready for. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

He’s still laid bare. He still aches. Harvey is still leaving, and it doesn’t matter that he knew it was coming. It just hurts.

But the pain isn’t only pain, isn’t that what his Grammy once said? It’s a reminder too. It proves how much this meant to him. How much it changed him, and grew him. And it may not feel like it right now, but he knows it’s true. He’s only hurting now because he was so happy before. Because it meant something. And if this is the price he has to pay, then that’s just how it is. Even if he could go back and save them both the trouble, he wouldn’t change a thing.

Harvey was right. It was worth it.

As long as he keeps telling himself that, he’ll be alright. So he shuts his eyes, inhales deeply to take as much of his scent into his lungs as he can, and tries to remind himself how lucky he is.

The thirty minutes pass too quickly. Mike is acutely, painfully aware of every second that goes by, and even though he knows it’s coming, can feel it creeping up on them with unbearable clarity, his stomach still drops when Harvey’s phone starts buzzing.

“That’s Ray. He’s downstairs.”

His throat closes up even as he swallows, reluctantly sitting up. “Okay.”

Harvey lets out a deep breath, looking at him before he gets to his feet. He goes to the bathroom and puts on his jacket, and then he’s standing there, the two suitcases beside him, and that’s it.

Everything is packed and ready, Harvey is dressed, Ray is already waiting for him, and there is nothing left to do or say, nothing that’s going to stop this from happening any longer.

They’ve said what they needed to say, done all they could with the time they had. Now all that’s left is to say goodbye and watch him go.

It’s the last step, and also the hardest.

He doesn’t want to let him leave. There’s nothing in the world Mike wants less than that, but he knows he has to.

“Fuck,” he whispers, running a hand over his mouth. It’s shaking when he drops it.

“Hey. It’s alright. It’ll be alright.”

Mike presses his lips together and nods, not because he agrees, but because he needs to put a brave face on, just for a few more minutes. For Harvey.

He shouldn’t have to stay strong for both of them. He’s the one who’s leaving. He doesn’t know if that makes it harder, but it certainly can’t make it easier.

Mike has asked himself over and over which is worse, being the one to go, or the one who gets left behind. He still hasn’t found an answer. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe both sides just suck.

He blinks at him, fighting back the unbidden tears welling up in his eyes.

“Harvey,” he says. He fidgets with his hands, feeling small and off-balance, and not touching him one last time is an impossibility, even if it will cost him the last of his composure.

Harvey’s arms are firm and steady, welcoming him, holding him securely. He exhales slowly, his voice shaking the slightest bit as he mutters, “If you say it, I won’t leave.”

Now there’s a temptation of biblical proportions.

Mike takes a deep breath before he straightens, reminding himself that this is right, that this is what needs to happen, that Harvey deserves to have good things in his life, and that this doesn’t have to be the end if they don’t want it to be.

“Then I won’t.”

He does, though. He loves him more than he could put into words, so it’s just as well that he doesn’t have to. Harvey looks like he knows anyway.

“Come here,” he asks, nudging his cheek before their lips meet. It’s heavy with the weight of their heartache, and Mike doesn’t want it to end, tries to hold on as long as possible before he can’t postpone the inevitable any longer.

It’s time.

He makes himself pull back, just enough to look at him.

“Hey,” he says, putting on his best smile. It’s not very good, but it’ll have to do. “Don’t forget to have fun with it, alright?”

Harvey cracks a smile too.

“I won’t,” he promises, and Mike takes a deep breath and nods, and it’s among the hardest things he has ever had to do to step back and let him go.

He wraps his arms around himself like it’s going to stop the hole inside him from opening up, fighting to keep the smile on his face. Harvey exhales quietly, brushing Mike’s cheek one last time before he drops his hand, opening the door. He takes his suitcases, lingering for the span of a heartbeat as he looks at him.

“I’ll text you when I get there,” he says, the roughness of his voice the final straw, and then he turns around before he can see Mike’s tears fall and his heart break a little more with every step he’s taking away from him.


	14. Chapter 14

Life, Harvey had enough opportunities to learn, has a habit of going on.

Even when things he really wanted to work out _don’t_ work out, when they fall apart in so many pieces that it’s impossible to put them back together, or when they just end, despite his best efforts to prolong them.

Life always goes on. There’s always another opportunity when the first one didn’t work out, new people to meet, new things to discover and strive for, to work on, to learn to love.

That’s what he forced himself to focus on, what he repeated in his head like a mantra until he almost believed it when he moved to London after that final performance. That final night with Mike.

Leaving a project behind – leaving home behind, too – has never been this hard before. A piece of Harvey’s heart is always in New York, his chosen home, the place he returns to every time no matter where a job takes him for a few months, but that never stopped him from looking ahead and embracing what’s coming. He never struggled so much with the duality of leaving to go somewhere new, of saying goodbye and welcoming all the new experiences inevitably coming his way at the same time.

Well, this is different.

Even now, weeks after he left and came to London to start working on ‘Good’, he feels like he’s only half there. He has long since settled in, unpacked his suitcases and built a rapport with the cast and crew, reacquainted himself with the city he only visited once so far, years ago. And yet.

It’s not that he’s sitting at home moping – Harvey doesn’t mope – but he’s still struggling to just dive into it and let it swallow him wholly. However, the best antidote to many sorrows, as he’s had plenty of opportunities to learn as well, is to keep busy, and that certainly applies here too.

It helps to focus on the fact that he left New York in the first place to do a job he’s deeply passionate about, to work on an incredibly exciting project that is taking a very pleasing shape right before his eyes.

Rehearsals are well underway, having started the day after Harvey arrived, physically jet-lagged and emotionally hungover but ready to get his hands dirty.

And it’s going splendidly. This, at least, Harvey has no trouble committing to, welcoming the outlet and the opportunity to channel his conflicting emotions into his work, the exchange with the other actors keeping him on his toes.

He didn’t know who else was cast in the play until he showed up to the readthrough, and most of the names didn’t sound familiar to him, though he has long learned that doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything. Mike is the best example of that.

There isn’t one member of the cast that he doesn’t enjoy working with, for all their differences in character. It’s a talented bunch the director has thrown together, coming from very different backgrounds and places, but there’s one thing they all have in common and that’s the fire behind the performances they deliver.

They make up a bigger group than the cast of ‘Virginia Woolf’, though it’s still manageable. Harvey rather likes it that way, enjoys the chance to work on his performance with every one of them individually as they figure out how to best tell their story.

So yes, it’s going well, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun despite the serious nature of the matter they’re exploring. It’s everything Harvey could ask for from a job – highly engaging, challenging, and demanding nothing less than his absolute best.

All things considered, it’s pretty much perfect. But Harvey knows better than that. Nothing’s ever perfect, not entirely.

As involved as he is with this new play, he still finds his thoughts wandering back to the previous one. It’s not the usual wistfulness taking hold of him after a particularly fulfilling job – even that tends to fade quickly, while this, whatever it is, sticks.

He misses ‘Virginia Woolf’. He misses the dynamic of it, misses the characters, misses being up on that stage every night and taking the audience by storm.

Though he’s mature enough to admit that most of it really comes down to the fact that he misses Mike.

It’s just very different without him around. It was stupid to get used to that in the first place, but Harvey never had much of a choice in the matter.

It’s not the only change he’s had to get used to, though.

London is very different from home too. The total opposite of New York despite the fact that both are major cities, and once the surrealism of stepping on a plane and landing on the other side of the world in a completely different time zone wore off, Harvey used the scarce amount of leisure time he got to take a better look around.

He’d already explored the neighborhood of his new place – small but homely enough for the next few months – during the run he went on every morning. He’s located near Russel Square, about twenty minutes from West End, and while it’s not the fanciest area, it does serve its purpose of showing him how the locals live. London is just as versatile as New York, of course, and he’s enjoying getting to know all the dirty and ugly parts as much as the famous tourist spots and high-end neighborhoods, getting a feeling for the city that can’t be gained by visiting, only by living there.

Most of his day, unsurprisingly, is still spent at the theater. They don’t have as much time to rehearse as they did on ‘Virginia Woolf’, and so the hours are as long as they can get. Not that Harvey minds putting all that time into it. Even when it means that he sits around without having anything to do while the others work out a scene he isn’t part of, like he’s doing right now.

There is, of course, always something to do, except sometimes there really isn’t and he can only look at his lines or go over his notes so many times before the text starts blurring before his eyes.

To pass the time until he’s needed again, Harvey retreats to the corner of the room and takes out his phone, opening the Instagram app without really thinking about it. He stops short, his heart rate picking up when he sees that Mike has posted a new story, his little icon the first in the row.

It happens all the time. He has no idea if that’s because he tends to open Mike’s story as soon as he sees it or if it’s just a coincidence, but either way, it’s convenient.

Harvey is barely active on Instagram – he actually never is, it’s usually Donna who posts any updates about his current and upcoming projects – but he has developed a habit of checking it a couple times a day for any signs of life from Mike since he left home.

It’s not that he can’t get updates from the man himself, because he does. Frequently. It just never quite feels like enough.

It’s been harder to get used to than he expected, despite the clean breach they involuntarily had – after months of spending every free minute with him and knowing his whereabouts when he didn’t, this new dynamic has been an adjustment, to say the least.

They still want to be part of each other’s lives, but now they actively have to work for it. They only know what the other chooses to reveal, know as much or as little as they let show.

He _didn’t_ know, for example, what the story is showing him Mike is up to right now – it’s ten in the morning for him, a quick glance at the time reveals, and he’s in class, clearly doing something with fighting props. His giddy grin radiates excitement, and Harvey can’t help but smile too at the sight.

Mike probably would have told him about it later, maybe even sent a picture, but since there’s no guarantee, he will take anything he can get. Anything that’ll let him know how he’s doing, that he’s holding up alright.

Because he knows Mike’s been having a hard time too. He’s trying to hide it, cover it up with bright smiles and funny stories about his classes and the things they’re teaching him at Juilliard, but no amount of enthusiasm can trick Harvey into mistaking the look on his face when he lets his guard down for happiness.

He still knows.

It’s not that Mike doesn’t complain, because he does. But it’s never about the things that matter, never about what really gets to him. It’s for show, because it’s fun to complain sometimes and it keeps them entertained, keeps them distracted from the fact that there’s something real weighing on them, something they carry around every day because they haven’t yet figured out how to let it go.

He saw it in his eyes, in the way he was hugging himself the day he left. He was clearly in pain, barely holding it together, and Harvey knows the weeks that passed since then haven’t taken that away.

Even more than the fact that he’s hurting, Harvey hates that he can’t be there to help him through it. Not even virtually, not if Mike doesn’t let him in, brushing it off when he asks about his wellbeing, complaining about the amount of work he has to do rather than what’s really on his mind.

He’s putting his brave face on, not because that’s what he wants, but because he thinks it’s what _Harvey_ wants. As if he’d rather see a fabricated smile than the truthful frown on his face when he listens to him sometimes, forgetting to keep his own expression in check.

As if he doesn’t already know how hard this is for him.

But life goes on. For both of them. Mike is at Juilliard, having a great time learning more about his craft, and Harvey is here in London, putting together something he already knows is going to be outstanding, and they’re fine. Things are good, and they may not be perfect, but they really are trying to make the most of it.

The remaining parts, they’re learning to live with.

Harvey exits the Instagram app, instead opening his chat with Mike to text, _Stage combat class today? Learned any good fighting tricks yet?_

When he goes back after hitting send, their chat is back at the top of the list, just above his and Donna’s. It’s oddly satisfying.

He’s probably in class right now, so he expects the answer to be delayed. The time difference between them has taught him to be patient in that regard.

When his phone buzzes eventually, he picks it up right away.

_You bet. No need to worry, I can totally defend your honor now :P_

Harvey huffs, stifling his snort as to not disturb the others.

_What makes you think my honor needs defending? I’m an angel and everyone knows it._

_LOL. Yeah right_

_What are you doing on your phone anyway? At least I actually paid attention in class_

_That’s because they hadn’t invented phones yet when you were in school, Grandpa_

“Harvey? We’re ready for the next scene.”

“Coming,” he calls out.

 _I can recall several instances during which you didn’t mind my age, honey. In fact, you rather seemed to enjoy the benefits of it_ , he types quickly, then puts his phone away and returns to the stage where Samantha and Zoe are waiting for him, their arms crossed in a comical mirror image.

“Important business to take care of while others do all the work?” Samantha inquires idly.

“Yes. Very urgent. Highly sensitive matter.”

“Right. That’s why you were smiling at your screen, is it?”

“Oh, come on.” Zoe shakes her head with a grin. “We’ve all read the stories about you on broadwayworld.com, Harvey Specter. Who are you trying to fool?”

Harvey cocks his head, raising an eyebrow. “The ones that call me extremely handsome and unnaturally charming?”

“The ones that say you can’t keep it in your pants,” Samantha states dryly.

“I think those were the same, actually.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you obsessively read every article that gets published about me,” Harvey says, winking when they all get called to the center.

“You could not possibly be any fuller of yourself,” Samantha mutters, shaking her head as she trails after him.

Much like her acting, Samantha’s way of talking to people sticks out from the common ruck. It took Harvey a minute to warm up to. Zoe, on the other hand, he liked from the moment they met. There’s a clear element of flirting to their dynamic, and Harvey is pretty sure that he would have made a move on her under different circumstances. As it is, he’s perfectly happy teasing her from afar, having no interest in taking things any further when his attention is already elsewhere.

Mike and he never explicitly talked about being exclusive. Harvey won’t pretend that the thought of him being with someone else doesn’t make him wanna kick something, but no matter how he feels about the idea, he doesn’t think he has the right to demand faithfulness from him when they’re not even officially together.

He has no claim over Mike, as bitter a pill as that is to swallow. Not when he’s the one who left.

He’s pretty sure Mike hasn’t been with anyone else anyway. He didn’t mention anything, and even if he was and just didn’t want to tell him, Harvey doesn’t think he could have hidden it when they talked face to face.

It’s not a rule they agreed on, but he chooses to think of it as an unspoken agreement that they both adhere to. Even if Mike didn’t, he’d still keep up his end of the deal. He meant what he said when he told him that he’s committed to him. No one else fits into that equation.

In terms of his co-stars, it definitely makes working together less complicated.

They make good progress on the scene now that they’ve figured out what didn’t work before, and Harvey is surprised to find that it’s long past seven by the time they call it a day. He was too caught up in the rehearsal to notice, but his stomach rumbles as he gathers his things, and he’s clearly not the only one.

“Anyone up for a bite?” Alex asks, and Jack and Zoe nod right away.

“I could eat,” Harvey agrees.

“I was going to hit the gym, but if you’re all going, I’m coming too,” Samantha decides.

Ava joins them as well while Stephen and Paul go their separate ways, which Harvey isn’t too sad about. Stephen is nice enough, but Paul has a way about him that makes Harvey rather glad to limit their interactions to the stage.

They head to an Italian restaurant in the area, which Harvey has been to before with Alex and Zoe during their first week of rehearsals, grabbing an empty table in the shade outside. It’s still hot, the temperatures climbing high during the day and dropping slowly at night even here, but as long as they stay out of the sun it’s bearable.

Harvey scans the menu, settling on the pasta with lemon sauce quickly and using the time while the others choose to check his phone.

He has a response from Mike to their earlier conversation that leaves him smirking when he reads it.

_Congrats. A few more texts like that and I definitely won’t look at my phone in class anymore. Or anywhere in public_

_That was enough to get you excited? I better not mention the things I could do to you because of my years of experience then. You have a pretty good idea about them anyway ;)_

_Stop it_ , the immediate response says. _You’re a monster_

_Don’t pretend you don’t miss me._

_Like I could. I know I’m an awesome actor, but that is one too big even for me_

The response twists his stomach in the best and worst way at the same time. Before he can respond, his phone buzzes with another text.

_Rehearsal over?_

_Yup. Having dinner now with most of the cast._

_Yum. What are you having?_

_Lemon pasta. It’s that Italian place I told you about before._

_Double yum!! Enjoy it :P_

_Will do. Wanna talk when I’m on my way home?_

“Look. He’s doing it again.”

Harvey glances up, putting his phone aside when he finds all eyes on him.

“Doing what?” he asks, lifting an innocent eyebrow.

“Smiling at your phone like that,” Zoe remarks.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. Come on, spill the beans. Who is it?”

“Must be someone special, to put that look on his face,” Ava teases, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“Oh, but that’s just because I’m talking to _you_.”

Samantha makes a face. “God, do you ever stop? She plays your _mother_.”

“And we all know she’s not nearly old enough for that. Even if she were, have you seen her?”

It’s not a lie, even though he’s mostly saying it to rile Samantha up – Ava really is beautiful. Out of costume and without the stage make-up, that is. He’s seen the looks they’re trying on her, successfully transforming her into a woman looking a good decade older than she actually is and much less attractive too. It’s a powerful transformation, one of the wonders of theater that never ceases to amaze him.

“You’re twisted.”

“Maybe, but in all the right ways,” he remarks with a cheeky grin.

“You’re also deflecting,” Jack points out as he leans in. Harvey lifts an eyebrow. Of all the people around the table, Jack was the last one he expected to take an interest in his love life. “There’s clearly someone you don’t want us to know about. Come on, admit it.”

“Perhaps,” he allows, holding up a hand when he sees the triumphant grins around him. “But that has nothing to do with any of you. It’s just…”

“Complicated?”

“Private,” he settles on, even though complicated covers it pretty well.

Alex huffs. “At least give us a hint, come on. Is it someone we know? Someone in the business?”

“Ever heard of not kissing and telling? It’s a thing.”

“We know that. We just didn’t think _you_ did.”

Harvey tilts his head at Samantha, raising his eyebrows. “You just think I’m a slut, don’t you?”

“You want an honest answer to that?”

“No one is calling anyone a slut, mainly because we believe people can sleep with who they like, however often they like it,” Zoe says pointedly. “But we’re still curious about your dating life.”

“I can see why,” he returns, smirking when Samantha and Zoe roll their eyes at the same time, “but I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you with that. And that’s all you’re getting from me on the matter.”

He picks up his glass to take a sip, and no matter how much they complain about it, he doesn’t budge. They keep trying to get something out of him throughout dinner, but Harvey just smiles at their teasing and tells them nothing. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.

Because how could he make them understand what Mike is to him when he barely understands it himself? He never experienced anything like this before. He’s been in love, and there’s no denying that that’s what this is, not anymore, but never like he is right now. This is entirely new to him, the amount of time he spends thinking about Mike unprecedented, the things he feels, how he yearns for him beyond anything he could have imagined before they met.

They’ve been apart for two months now. His initial fear of them falling out of touch has proven unnecessary, which he rationally expected but still couldn’t truly believe until it actually happened. Even when Mike’s classes started two weeks ago, changing his schedule from flexible to clocked and thus shrinking their already limited time window even further, things didn’t get drastically worse like he thought they might. It hasn’t been long, of course, but they’re holding up surprisingly well so far.

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t still hard. They don’t talk half as much as they used to, simply because the time difference and their respective schedules make it impossible.

Harvey goes home to an empty apartment every night. They don’t work together anymore. They don’t get takeout together, don’t fight about what kind of pizza to order, don’t watch any movies or shows to see who knows more lines by heart (Mike always won, except when they were watching Star Trek, the fact that Harvey always had the upper hand in that regard amusing him greatly).

And Harvey kind of got used to all that. He misses it, he can admit that to himself, and it’s not that he can’t continue living his life without it – he’d just rather not.

His phone buzzes, and he picks it up to read the text, ignoring the curious glances directed at him.

_For sure!! I’m just doing some schoolwork, call or facetime whenever you’re ready :)_

_Will do. Shouldn’t be longer than an hour or two._ He hits send, then adds, _Look forward to seeing you._

Mike’s response is a simple _< 3,_ which he knows full well Harvey finds ridiculous but still has to smile about whenever he sees it – he suspects he is sending it more and more frequently for that exact reason.

It’s not just that, though. It shouldn’t surprise him, but seeing how enthusiastic Mike is about getting to talk to him, even when it’s late for Harvey or early for him and they only get a few minutes before one of them has to go, still makes his stomach prickle every time.

He puts his phone away before an even more ridiculous grin can take over his face, trying to focus on the conversation at hand after it turns to other subjects than the mysterious person he’s texting.

The food is great when it arrives, as is the company, and Harvey agrees to staying for a drink afterwards without needing much persuasion. It’s not that late yet, and he’s got the rest of the night if Mike doesn’t have anything else on.

It’s Samantha who eventually leaves first, waving the waiter over to ask for her bill.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I’m actually going to the gym now.”

“How are you doing that after dinner?” Alex groans, a hand on his stomach. “You’re insane.”

“Not all of us stuffed our faces with abandon, Alex,” she says coolly, raising an eyebrow. He narrows his eyes at her, looking like he’s torn between making a joke and snapping at her.

It’s hard to tell whether they’re teasing or not sometimes. Harvey isn’t even sure if they know it themselves, but so far there haven’t been any major incidents, and as long as the production doesn’t suffer because of it, he’s not all that worried.

Alex and Samantha keep staring at each other before Alex leans back, letting it go.

“You’re crazy,” he informs her, reaching for his wine glass to have the last sip.

“So people keep telling me.” Samantha turns to Harvey, lifting an eyebrow. “What about you? Wanna come along?”

Ever since they discovered their mutual love for boxing – kickboxing in her case – they’ve been going to the gym to spar it out once, sometimes twice a week. It’s what broke the last of the ice between them, and Harvey relishes the quiet companionship she offers whenever they head down to the gym together to clear their heads after a rehearsal, but today he just shakes his head with an apologetic smile.

“Another time. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Somewhere meaning on his phone, talking to Mike, but there’s no need to clarify that. They all look like they know anyway.

“Your loss,” she just says, and he smiles because it’s a loss he’s more than willing to take if he gets a few minutes with Mike in exchange for it.

The waiter comes back with their bills, and once they’ve all paid, Samantha pushes her chair back and grabs her bag.

“See you all in the morning. Bright and early!”

The group dissolves quickly, and while most of them turn to the nearest tube station, Harvey waves them goodbye and heads in the direction of his apartment, not minding the walk now that it’s cooling down.

He takes out his headphones once he’s rounded the corner, then calls Mike on FaceTime. The connection isn’t as good as it is in his apartment, but he doesn’t want to wait until he gets home to see him.

Mike picks up after a few seconds, his face lighting up with a smile when he sees him.

“Hey, honey.”

“Hey yourself! How was dinner?”

“Very good. We’ll definitely go there again.”

“Nice. I think I’ll have pasta too tonight. You inspired me.”

“Have pasta as in you’ll make it, or you’ll order it?”

“That remains to be seen. Depending on how much motivation I have to cook once I’m done with my homework.”

“I challenge you to give it a try and do it yourself. You did compliment my kitchen back when you first saw it, you should use it while you can.”

He’s not just encouraging him because he desperately needs to broaden his culinary horizon, but because he genuinely thinks it will do him good – keeping busy is still the best strategy to take your mind off things, and if he gets busy with something he can benefit from in the long run, all the better.

“You’re right,” Mike sighs. “Maybe I’ll find a quick recipe with lemon in it.”

“Let me know how it turned out,” Harvey tells him, smiling when Mike nods. He tilts his head, taking a moment to just look at him, the grey shirt he’s seen on him countless times during rehearsals, his hair that’s been getting long enough to fall into his forehead. It’s a cute look on him, though he’s sure it’s even more endearing in person.

“It’s good to see you,” he says softly.

“Yeah, you too.” Mike squints at the screen. “Are you walking home right now?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Show me around!”

“What, suddenly it’s not so good to see me anymore?” Harvey asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Turn of phrase. Hearing you also works for me. I mean, I know what you look like. London, on the other hand…”

“Charming,” Harvey remarks dryly. He switches to the other camera so that Mike can see what he sees as he walks. He doesn’t actually mind, as long as he still gets to look at him in the meantime.

“This is very English,” Mike comments, leaning in to regard the street he’s walking down more closely.

“Well, I am in England,” Harvey remarks. Not a subject they need to dwell on, as far as he’s concerned. “Tell me about your day,” he asks instead. “How was stage combat class?”

“Dude, it was _awesome_ ,” Mike emphasizes, and Harvey doesn’t even scold him for the ridiculous address as he dives into his story.

Strolling down the busy street, all traffic noises and chattering around him fading to the background as he listens to him talking animatedly about his class, there’s really nothing he’d rather be doing.

*

Harvey, being who he is, has never cared much about following the rules. He listens to them, nods along, smiles, and then turns around to do as he pleases anyway, which in this case means take out his phone and send a text to Mike.

_What I’m about to show you is classified information. I expect full discretion._

He attaches the picture of the official poster they just received, to be revealed to the public in a few days and thus strictly confidential at the present moment, and hits send before looking at it once more, admiring how great it turned out.

All of them look their absolute best, somber and dark and deeply intriguing, but it’s a rather striking shot of him in particular, if he does say so himself. He’s sure Mike is going to appreciate it.

It’s still early in the States, and he knows Mike won’t be up for a while because he only has late classes today, but it’s worth the wait when his phone eventually buzzes with a reply.

_OMG. You look sexy_

He huffs out a laugh.

_You sound surprised._

_Am not. Just wasn’t prepared to be reminded of it so thoroughly first thing in the morning_

_You call that morning?_

_Hey! Time difference!_

_I can count backwards, Mike. I know it’s almost eleven where you are._

He can tell by his lack of reaction that he’s won this round, and he’s not surprised to find him changing the subject the next time he looks at his phone when they take a quick break.

Mike sent him a picture of himself he must have taken at school, wearing an absolutely ridiculous period costume and an expression he can only guess was supposed to be historically appropriate.

 _Look, I can be sexy too_ , the caption reads. Harvey snorts.

_Unbelievably so. I’m getting hard on stage as we speak._

It’s a good thing he doesn’t check his phone again until he’s on the side during a scene where he isn’t needed, because Mike has sent another picture, and this one definitely _is_ sexy. So much so, in fact, that Harvey has to sit down for a moment, hoping no one is looking at him.

 _This helping?_ the text underneath says innocently, and Harvey would love to teach him a lesson about asking redundant questions, but all he can think of replying is, _Fuck, Mike._

_I take it that’s a yes ;)_

Harvey inhales deeply, forcing himself not to look at the picture again. It’s already burned into his memory anyway, but there’s no need to make things any harder. Figuratively speaking.

_Give me an hour. I’ll be home by seven._

_I’ll be here :)_

_Good. Behave_.

Mike sends an emoji in response that is questionable at best and ominous at worst, but he refrains from taking any more pictures until Harvey has made it to his apartment, dropping everything as he heads straight for the sofa, opening the picture again to take a better look.

He curses quietly, undoing his pants.

It’s not just Mike’s nakedness, though that’s a big bonus, but the look on his face as he gazes into the camera, the pretended wide-eyed innocence combined with the lip bite and his memories of just what he can do with that mouth.

Harvey wants to devour him.

_I’m home. Please tell me you don’t have anywhere to be._

_Not for another two hours. Should be enough time :P_

_Agreed. This won’t take long._

He groans when Mike responds, _Nope. Had enough time to get myself ready for you :)_

_Love the sound of that. Where are you?_

_Your bed_

_Wearing?_

_Nothing ;)_

_Show me._

He complies at once, and while the first picture was still fairly tame, his erection mostly hidden, this one is anything but. The shot shows him from the chest down on Harvey’s sheets, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee. His hand is wrapped loosely around his cock, just holding it, and the entire image is so arousing that Harvey has to swallow repeatedly, reaching into his underwear to mirror him before he responds.

_God. You don’t do anything halfway, do you?_

_I’ll take that as a compliment :P_

_It is. You’re so hot, Mike. You don’t know what this is doing to me already_

The gentle pressure he’s applying to his cock feels amazing. He just needs something to smoothen the rhythm and it’ll be perfect. He has no lube here, but the hand lotion on the table will do.

While he reaches for the bottle, his phone buzzes twice.

_:)  
Well? I show you mine, you show me yours?_

He huffs out a quiet laugh.

_Impatient, are we?_

_I’ve been waiting for you for an hour, Harvey. I’m a little worked up over here  
Please?_

_Well, since you’re asking so nicely._

He lifts his hips to pull his underwear down further, then takes a short video of how he’s stroking himself, slow and sensual, not bothering to stifle his elevated breathing in the background.

_Fuck.  
Didn’t even bother undressing, huh? _

_Why waste any more time?_

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead asking, _Are you touching yourself?_

_Of course. Watching your video again_

_Are you doing what I did? Imagining it’s me who’s touching you?_

_Yeah. Fuck, yeah_

He licks his lips, not having to work hard to hear Mike’s voice saying those words, breathing them into the space between them. He’s heard it enough times to know what he sounds like.

_Tell me what you want me to do to you next time I see you. All of it._

And Mike does. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t wait for further encouragement, and it’s all he can do to lean back and adjust his pace, tugging at his cock faster and harder while his breathing speeds up.

Harvey has never been one for sexting, because it’s ridiculous, but it works because neither of them is taking it too seriously. It’s less what they’re saying and more the knowledge that Mike is out there right this moment that’s doing it for him anyway, in his bed, naked, touching himself as he thinks about him.

The fact that it’s been two months since they got to be with each other helps too.

Harvey comes first, even though Mike clearly isn’t holding back as he spams him with detailed descriptions of his fantasies – always rambling, even now – and he’s more than happy to return the favor until Mike sends him a selfie a few minutes later, a blissful smile on his lips.

 _Very satisfied. Very happy,_ he texts, and Harvey responds with a heart emoji and tells himself that it’s alright because it’s the post-coital hormones speaking.

_And all this because you illegally showed me your poster._

Harvey snorts.

 _I wouldn’t have shown it to you while I was still rehearsing if I’d known it would have that effect on you,_ he texts back.

_Worked out well for both of us, didn’t it?_

There’s no arguing with that.

The poster is released two days later, and judging by the comments on Harvey’s Instagram post featuring a close-up of him as well as the original, the internet seems to agree with Mike that the costume is an attractive look on him.

Tickets have gone on sale alongside the poster reveal, and opening night is already sold out, which is good news, of course, though Harvey can’t quite bring himself to be as happy about it as he should be.

It just all pales a little compared to how excited he would be if Mike could be there to see it.

They talked about him flying to London for the premiere, but ended up scratching the idea when it became clear that it would conflict with his schooling. It was Harvey who insisted he stayed in New York, because while Mike was willing to skip a few mandatory classes for this, he doesn’t want him to make that sacrifice. Not after how hard he fought to get back into Juilliard.

At least Donna will be there. She came to London for a week shortly after he arrived, then flew back to the States to take care of her other clients with the promise to return for opening night. She’s never missed any of his premieres since his very first one, and it’s a comfort, if a small one, that she won’t start now.

Opening night isn’t that far off anymore, Harvey realizes when he glances at the calendar. It’s weird how time has been passing since he got here. The rehearsal period is fairly short, especially compared to all the time they had to prepare for ‘Virginia Woolf’. Even that flew by, while it feels like he’s been in London much longer than he actually has. Like they should be up on stage performing already.

Not that Harvey wants it to be over. He’s getting a lot out of his work on this project. It’s challenging in all the right ways, exactly the kind of story he wants to be telling as an actor, a collaboration of exceptional talent, and what they’re creating will amount to what he’s sure is a memorable production.

And still, there’s an indiscernible and yet undeniable hint of impatience in everything he does.

Not because he wants to be done with it, but because he keeps looking for something he can’t find, and the fact that he knows it doesn’t really make it any better.

Just goes to show what he already knew anyway. No matter how amazing some things may be, nothing’s ever perfect.

*

“Nervous?”

“You know I’m nervous, Donna. But no, it’s not worse than I can handle, and yes, I’ll be fine regardlessly.”

“Well, I should hope so.” Donna lifts her eyebrows. “Lots of people out there who want to see nothing less than your absolute best. Me included, because I didn’t put myself through that flight for a subpar performance.”

Harvey rolls his eyes.

“You’re not helping.”

She just grins. This is her way of distracting him, and up to a certain point it works – when he’s annoyed with her, he can’t obsess about being on stage soon.

Not that there’s anything to be worried about. He knows his role inside and out; he’s got this.

Donna picks up the playbill and opens the page with his bio, studying the pictures.

“This looks very promising. I can’t wait to hear your sexy German accent.”

“There is nothing sexy about a German accent,” Harvey mutters, leaning back to give himself a good look in the mirror. He’s already in his costume and make-up, having gone over his lines and notes until he felt it would hinder rather than benefit him if he did it one more time, and now all that’s left is waiting until it’s time to get backstage and receive his cue.

He’s ready.

Donna meets his eyes in the mirror, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“Want me to leave you for your pre-show ritual?”

He used to have that, didn’t he? Back before Mike lounged around in his dressing room until the last possible moment, reducing his routine to nothing more than a few minutes of breathing exercises. He never seemed to need more when he was around, but he thinks he might like to go through the whole thing this time, just to be on the safe side.

“That would be great, yeah.”

She nods and gets up, straightening her dress before giving him a smile. She doesn’t hug him, because she knows he prefers not to be touched before a show, instead just saying, “I’ll see you on the other side. Break a leg.”

He thanks her and, once he’s alone, looks at himself in the mirror and takes a deep breath.

Preparing himself to get on stage in front of hundreds of people and tell a story for the first time isn’t exactly a normal situation, even for him, and while he has learned to relish the anticipation, today he feels… off.

Donna must have picked up on it, must have mistaken it for excessive nervousness, or simply tried to distract him from what’s really bothering him with her questioning.

Harvey isn’t excessively nervous. He’s already distracted, and not in the way he should be, that still lets him focus on the situation at hand.

He’s missing something. And it doesn’t take him long to figure out exactly what, or better who it is.

It surprises him, just how deep his desire to have Mike with him tonight runs. It’s not just because he wants to see him – he does, achingly so – but because he wants to share this experience with him. This is important to Harvey. It’s special. And more than anything, he wants him to be part of that.

This is a first. It never mattered this much to him to share those moments with someone. He was always more of a lone wolf, if he had to put a name on it, and even though he cherished Donna’s company when he had a big night, he could have done without it if necessary and wouldn’t have lost much sleep over the matter.

Without Mike, it’s… tougher. It feels wrong somehow, like the entire thing loses some of its meaning simply because he’s not here for it.

Well, he can’t be here. But it’s still important, it’s still special, and it’ll only happen once before it disappears forever, so Harvey will be damned if he doesn’t make the most of it, even if it has to be without him.

And he’ll make sure to remember every detail, so he can go home afterwards and tell Mike all about it, and that’ll be good enough. It has to be.

Harvey inhales deeply, giving himself a determined look in the mirror before he closes his eyes and starts his breathing exercises. And from that point on there’s no stopping it anymore, which is a good thing, because it means he’s too busy to focus on Mike’s glaring absence.

He steps out of his dressing room, gathers backstage with the rest of the cast, receives his cue, and then it starts anew. He walks onto the stage, quiet, illuminated, until he fills it with sound and movement and _life_ , and the story is progressing before he knows it until it’s already over again, just like that.

It went over perfectly. No one stumbled, no one forgot their lines or missed a cue, and the impeccable performance they gave takes the audience by storm.

The familiar high persists long after he’s stepped out of character, leaving him tingling and hyper-aware, and Harvey is exceptionally grateful for it this time, because it’s good to know that some things stay the same, that there’s something he can hold on to even when everything else falls away.

Life goes on. Even if it’s not in the way he would have wanted.

“Congratulations. You made me cry.”

Harvey returns Donna’s embrace when she meets him backstage.

“Don’t tell me that was the first time.”

“It wasn’t. You’re a terrible client.”

He snorts as he pulls back. “I meant on stage, but thanks for that.” His smile softens. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for being here.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“Because I may be a difficult client, but I’m still your favorite?”

“I don’t know what gave you that idea,” she says dryly.

“Maybe that bouquet you’re carrying.” Harvey nods towards it. “I gotta say, I’m surprised. Since when do you get me flowers?”

“I don’t. These are from Mike. He chose them, placed the order and everything. I just picked them up for him.”

He stares at her. “They’re from Mike?”

“They are. And he’s going to be so happy when I tell him about the look on your face right now.”

Accepting the flowers, Harvey regards them closely as he tries to process what the sight is making him feel. He doesn’t know much about floristics, but even he can tell that they’re beautiful. A little like the ones he gave Mike for their opening night on ‘Virginia Woolf’, with his own spin on it.

It tugs at his heartstrings in all the right ways.

“Tell him… never mind. I’ll tell him myself.”

Donna nods. “I think you should.”

Harvey lets out a deep breath. “How is he doing?”

“You tell me. You talk to him more than I do, and I see him twice a week for yoga.”

“You know what I mean.”

“He’s fine. Holding up admirably. I can always tell when he just heard from you, though. He could light up the entire city with how he beams afterwards. He’s so bad at hiding it.”

She lifts an eyebrow as she regards him.

“Yeah, it looks just like that, actually.”

Harvey rolls his eyes despite his smile. “I’ll put these away and get changed before we head to the afterparty. You gonna be okay for a minute?”

“Oh, I can keep myself entertained just fine. I’m sure your castmates would love to hear some of the stories I have to tell about you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you mean what I think you mean, you’re fired.”

She just winks at him before he turns to go, and despite the looming threat Harvey takes a moment to sit down when he gets to his dressing room, sending a picture of the bouquet to Mike with the caption, _I got your flowers. You shouldn’t have, but thank you._

_Did they make you smile?_

_Yes. :)_

_Then I’m glad I got them. Consider them a stand-in for me since I couldn’t be there in person_

A poor substitute, no matter how beautiful they are, but before Harvey can say as much, his phone buzzes with another text.

_How did it go then? Was it incredible? I bet it was incredible_

_It was. I had a great time. Would only have been better with you here._

_:(  
Well, I’m guessing the fun is only just starting with the afterparty and everything. Tell me all about it when you get home?_

_Absolutely. You free to talk later?_

_Anytime :)_

_Great. I’ll text you when I’m ready._

He changes out of his costume quickly, finding Donna in deep conversation with Samantha of all people when he returns.

“Do I want to know what you two are talking about?” he asks dryly.

“Oh, all sorts of interesting things,” Samantha says, patting his shoulder as they turn to head out. “I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting night.”

She’s certainly not wrong about that.

Whoever scouted the bar knew what they were doing, because there’s plenty of space for the multitudes of people wanting to get inside, plenty to drink, and plenty of music that Harvey would actually have chosen himself.

There’s also food, lots of it. Mike would have a field day. He makes sure to try as much as he can, which is a lot because the last meal he had was a while ago, and takes a mental note of everything so he can tell him all about it later.

He doesn’t bother mingling, because people keep finding him, and he’s happy to chat with whoever comes up to him and Donna, who spends most of the night by his side to squeeze some gossip out of him.

It’s nice, hanging out with her again. He misses her too, even if in an entirely different way than he misses Mike, and while they don’t get to talk much in private, it’s not a bad way to pass the time.

Samantha is with them for a while, grilling Donna in a way that could mean she’s into her just as much as that she wants to gather blackmail material about Harvey. But whichever one it is, she’s still not as bad as Stephen.

He barely leaves their side all night, inquiring if Donna is the reason Harvey keeps smiling at his phone early on, and Harvey honestly doesn’t know if he’s asking because he thinks it’s true or because he wants to get into her pants, but the incredulous laugh they both let out at the same time seems to be enough of a response to clear things up for him.

As he engages her in a conversation that Harvey really doesn’t need to listen to, leaving him to sip his drink and watch the room by himself, he wonders if people would know that it’s Mike he’s with if he was here. If they’d take one look at him and just see that there’s something between them, or if they wouldn’t notice at all.

It feels so obvious to him, enough for even the heteronormative rest of the world to catch on, but he’s not exactly objective in the matter.

Not that it makes a difference. Mike isn’t here, and there won’t be any public appearances for the two of them anytime soon, so there’s really no point in going down that road.

Harvey tries not to focus on that, instead taking off to get himself a refill while trying to look like he’s having a good time.

He _is_ , but finds himself rather tired of the loud music and stuffy air by the time his next drink draws to a close, thus deciding that he won’t be getting a third one. He’s just not feeling it tonight.

Donna looks up when he approaches her, saying something to Stephen before getting up from her seat to meet him halfway.

“Hey. I think I’ll head home soon. You don’t mind staying on your own?”

“Absolutely not. I’m in good company.”

“Clearly. Meet you for brunch tomorrow? Could get late for you, from the looks of it. Might be best if we skipped breakfast.”

She elbows him. “Shut up. I’ll text you when I’m awake, we can figure out where to meet then.”

“Sounds good. Enjoy the rest of the party,” he says with a wink, laughing at the look she gives him.

“Definitely. You have a good night too.” She pulls him in for a quick hug, murmuring into his ear, “Tell him I said hi.”

“I will.” He smiles and pulls back, not bothering to find the rest of the cast before he goes. They’ll notice that he left eventually, and they’d only ask questions he doesn’t want to answer.

It’s still warm when he pushes the doors open and heads out, almost oppressively so, but there’s a gentle breeze that makes it more bearable than the stagnant air inside. Despite how much he wants to see Mike, Harvey takes his time strolling through the streets, enjoying the sound of his feet on the pavement as he walks to his apartment.

The light exercise has cleared his head by the time he gets home, even though he’s still tired. He texts Mike that he’ll be ready in five, then changes into his pajamas and brushes his teeth, getting into bed before he calls him.

“There he is!” Mike announces when he picks up, spreading his arms. “The star of the night, the best actor in all of London, nay, the country. The apple of my eye. The four-times Tony Award-“

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Harvey cuts him off, amused. “Lovely to see you too.”

Mike grins, crossing his legs as he gets comfortable. He must have propped up his phone on something to keep it upright, allowing him a better view of him.

“How are you? How was the party?”

“Good. It was nice. Stephen flirted with Donna the whole time. She says hi, by the way.”

“Ooh. Tell her I said hi too, and to go get it while she’s there.”

“Will do.”

“You must be tired. You look like it, to be honest. No offense.”

“None taken. And I am. It’s been a long day. Very emotionally taxing.”

Not just because of the nature of the play he’s immersing himself in every night now, though that’s challenging enough.

“Understandable.”

“Not so tired that I couldn’t talk to you for a while, though.”

“Well, I should hope so. Go on then. Tell me everything.”

And Harvey does, leaving out no detail, no matter how small or insignificant. Mike listens quietly, only adding a comment here and there, and the small smile on his lips is almost enough to hide the fact that the look in his eyes is completely heartbroken.

Harvey carries on anyway, pretending he doesn’t see it for both their sakes, because what else is there to do? What could he say from here that would make either of them feel better about the distance between them?

“That sounds like an amazing night,” Mike says when he’s finished. “I’m so happy for you, Harvey. I wish I could have been there.”

His voice breaks on the last part, and he knows why, he feels the same way, but he still hates how much it’s getting to Mike. That he’s the reason he looks like this.

“I know. So do I. But you’re here now, that’s something.”

Mike smiles at that, but he still looks so sad that Harvey can barely stand it.

“Let’s talk about your day,” he changes the subject. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“Well, you know, school is keeping me busy. It’s good, it’s really fun, but I’m starting to see that it’s not always gonna fall into my lap, you know?”

Harvey huffs out a laugh. “Welcome to the real world, honey.”

“I know. It’s not that I’m not handling it, just… I got partnered to prepare a scene with this girl, and she’s… particular.”

“How so?”

“I couldn’t begin to describe it to you. Kind of… Louis-like? If that makes sense? Which is weird to see in a twenty-something blonde woman, but then again it’s weird in him too, so, you know.”

“Hm. Sounds interesting. What’s her name?”

“Katrina something. I don’t know her very well yet. She could be really nice, actually, she just… hasn’t shown me that side of her yet.”

“Or maybe she can be the nemesis you’ve dreamed of having. What did you call it? Your frenemy.”

Mike stops, looking intrigued. “She could,” he says slowly. “She totally could. Oh man, that’s so cool.”

Harvey chuckles. “Just wait and see what happens. She might yet surprise you.”

“Right. Well, apart from that I’ve been visiting Grammy a lot – she says hi, by the way, again – and keeping up with yoga. I’m getting better and better, Rachel says. Oh, and I’m learning how to do a split.”

“You’re what?”

The nonchalant shrug accompanying the words leaves Harvey certain that he must have misheard, but Mike just lifts his eyebrows, tilting his chin up defiantly.

“Yeah, I’m serious! Don’t look so doubtful, I can totally do it. Well, not yet, but I will.”

“I’m not doubtful, just… surprised. I fully believe in you, honey. I had no idea you were interested in doing stuff like that, that’s all.”

“Well, I wasn’t before. It’s just about the split, really.”

“What’s brought this on then?”

“I saw Rachel doing it. It was so cool, Harvey. Like, how can someone put their body in that position and look like they’re enjoying it too? It’s wild. I wanna do it so badly.”

Harvey snorts. “And how’s that working out for you? Any improvement yet?”

“Well, you know, it takes time. But so far, so good. Rachel showed me all the stretches I need to do, and I’ve dutifully gone through the whole thing once a day all week. She said I’m doing better already. Maybe I should take pictures to document my progress,” he muses.

“If you do, please let me have a look. Or better yet, facetime me before you do it so I can see it live.”

Mike narrows his eyes. “Are you asking because you actually wanna see me do it, or because you wanna have a laugh?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“Funny.”

“I’m serious. I said I believe in you, didn’t I? And I’ll admit that the mental image of you doing that is… intriguing. Just make sure you don’t hurt yourself, alright?”

Mike snorts. “Are you worried about my wellbeing or about my dick?”

“Same difference.”

“Fair enough. But don’t worry, I’m not overdoing it. Just passing the time. And I guess I can do it on camera sometime, _if_ you promise not to laugh. Not today, though. I’m already through with it.”

“Shame. That would have been a great last thing to see before I fall asleep.”

“Well, tough luck. I guess my face will have to do.”

“That’s fine.” Harvey smiles as he rolls over, snuggling into his pillow. “I happen to like your face.”

A whole lot, actually. They continue talking for a while, about nothing of importance, but by the end of it the sadness has disappeared from Mike’s face, so maybe it was important after all. And when Harvey’s exhaustion finally overpowers him, he finds that it being the last thing he sees before he falls asleep really isn’t so bad.

*

Harvey’s instincts about the play were right, of course. The audience loves it night after night, and so do the critics. The production creates a lot of buzz among the press, attracting plenty of attention from all sides.

Harvey has just completed the first week of performances when he gets approached by a sharply dressed man while doing stage door after the show – he isn’t out there every night, but finds himself going for it more times than not, remembering Mike saying how much it means to the fans and how fun it is to meet everyone very clearly.

He notices the man watching him, waiting patiently for his turn, but doesn’t make anything of it until he starts talking.

“Congratulations, Mr. Specter. That was quite the impressive performance.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Darby. Edward Darby. You may have heard of me, but in case you haven’t – I’m a director.”

“Are you,” Harvey asks, lifting an eyebrow.

He nods. “If you’re free, I’d like to invite you for a drink after this. If you aren’t too tired, that is. If you’d rather head home, I understand, of course.”

Harvey narrows his eyes at him, then glances at the rest of the crowd. He doesn’t have much time to decide if he doesn’t want to hold things up, and his curiosity ends up getting the better of him. He’d like to hear what this guy wants, and a drink certainly won’t hurt.

“I think it’ll be another twenty minutes until I’m done here. If you don’t mind the wait, I can meet you back here once I’m finished? Otherwise we could reschedule.”

“I’ll wait,” Darby says with a smile and retreats to the corner of the street, his eyes on him the entire time.

Harvey finishes up without hurry, but aware of the time, meeting the man outside once he’s done.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Darby says, which Harvey finds a little weird since they literally met right here not half an hour ago. “There’s a wonderful pub nearby. I believe you’ll like it very much.”

Truthfully, Harvey has seen better places, but he’s not here to settle in for a long night, so this will do. He just wants to hear what this guy has to say and then get home.

“To your outstanding performance,” Darby announces when their drinks arrive, raising his glass. Harvey lifts an eyebrow, but does the same.

“I appreciate the invitation, Mr. Darby.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, really. Seeing you on that stage was such a treat. You have quite the presence, quite the charisma. And to say that about the part you’re playing! An impressive achievement, I’d say.”

Harvey regards him over the rim of his glass, briefly wondering how much the man is going to kiss up to him before he gets to the point.

“You’re too kind.”

“And I mean every word. That can’t be an easy role to portray. I believe that the willingness to work hard, even more so than talent, should be rewarded. And you evidently have a fair share of both.”

Harvey just looks at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Darby’s lips curl up in amusement.

“You’ll probably have guessed by now that I didn’t ask you to join me just to compliment you.”

“Clearly not,” Harvey says dryly. “And as nice as this is, I do appreciate efficiency. I’m not one for beating around the bush, so why don’t you skip the schmoozing and tell me why I’m really here?”

He doesn’t seem offended, merely folding his hands together as he regards him thoughtfully.

“I believe I have an offer for you that you’ll find hard to refuse.”

“Oh? Well, do tell,” Harvey asks and leans back.

“I’m currently working on bringing a new play to the stage. The rehearsals would coincidentally begin two weeks after your performances end. It’s called ‘Father’s Footsteps’. And I think you’re a rather perfect fit for the son.”

He launches into a detailed description of the plot, following two siblings who have come home to see their demented father for what might be the last time. With the father’s vanishing memories, and both the daughter and the son remembering the same things in different ways, the play focuses on the familial relationships and a reconstruction of the past that may prove to be too complex to complete, and too jarring for the siblings to _want_ to complete anymore.

“Now,” Darby asks with a smile, “how does that sound to you?”

It sounds amazing, actually. It’s a perfect part from what he’s gathering, an intriguing script and exactly the type of story he loves to sink his teeth into. He would definitely go and see it himself, which is always a good indicator on whether or not something is right for him.

Harvey barely has to think about it.

“I’m flattered, and I really do appreciate that you considered me, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn this one down.”

Darby lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? May I ask if it’s the part you’re not interested in, or if it’s a matter of, shall we say, homesickness? I’m sure we could make some arrangements for you to feel more comfortable here if you haven’t found London to your liking so far.”

It’s almost tempting. Darby clearly wants him for this, is willing to go to extreme lengths to get him on board, and Harvey _knows_ he would enjoy working on it.

Tempting. But not tempting enough.

“On the contrary. It’s been a wonderful experience so far, and I’ll certainly cherish the rest of my time here. But I still want to go back to the States after this. It’s nothing personal.”

It’s very personal, actually, but Darby doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, that’s a shame. But it appears that you’ve made up your mind.”

Harvey smiles. “I have.”

Darby clearly isn’t happy about accepting his decision, but he doesn’t let it show, instead engaging him in interesting conversation regardlessly as they finish their drinks. Harvey is sure he’s a great director too, making a mental note to look up his work out of sheer interest once he’s home, but if there’s one thing the man can do, it’s talk.

“Do give me a call if you change your mind,” Darby tells him once he’s paid, handing him his card. “It’s not too late.”

Harvey has no intention of doing so, but accepts the card anyway, nodding politely.

“Good luck with finding someone for the part. I’m sure it’s going to be a fantastic production. Maybe I’ll get a chance to fly in and see it.”

He turns around after one last smile, not bothering to look back. It’s a clear night, warm and lively despite the late hour, and he decides to walk home and enjoy the opportunity to be outside without breaking into a sweat, which is impossible during the day and the reason why he secretly prefers the night. That, and the fact that Mike tends to be awake around this time too, happy to talk to him whenever he’s free.

Harvey takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky, thinking about the offer and the conversation with Darby, and he feels strangely alright considering that he just turned down a great opportunity simply because his heart wasn’t in it.

His heart is somewhere else entirely, and apparently that’s a deciding factor in his career choices now.

He takes a moment to figure out how he feels about that and finds that he feels… nothing. No regret.

Funny, that.

He would have hated this, a year ago. He would have scoffed at himself, shaken his head, and made sure he returned his attention where it belonged because giving up opportunities was just not an option. Work always came first.

But he doesn’t feel like he’s giving anything up now. Maybe a compromise is just that; a compromise. He can listen to his head _and_ his heart, do things to further his career and his personal life. He can have both.

He’ll give up work opportunities to be closer to home sometimes, and he’ll give up time with Mike for a job other times, and with a bit of luck he will get the balance just right and figure it out.

Compromising means he’s losing something, yes, but he’s also gaining things in return, things he never considered before, things he didn’t think he could have. And if he gets to have those, maybe the losses he’s cutting aren’t so big at all.

He thinks he could live with those just fine.

*

It’s beyond Harvey how there are still people out there who think acting is easy, that it doesn’t count as hard fucking work, when he gets home after a performance and feels _this_ beat.

It’s a good kind of exhaustion, the very best as far as Harvey is concerned. But it still weighs on him. It’s still heavy.

It was easy to hang out with Mike afterwards when they were doing ‘Virginia Woolf’, because they were both tired and it suited them just fine to sit in silence and enjoy each other’s quiet company.

Picking up the phone so he can see him at all and actually keeping up a conversation when he’s thousands of miles away is something else entirely. Harvey _wants_ to talk to him, and they squeeze in a call whenever they can, but it’s still frustrating.

Most nights, he’s just too tired to make for good company. He knows Mike doesn’t mind if they don’t talk about anything special or important, but it’s the only chance they get to do so, and he hates wasting the precious time they have.

Not that there’s much of it to waste.

Some of their talks barely last ten minutes. Their shortest one was four minutes and thirty seconds long before Mike ordered him to go to bed because he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He appreciates any amount of time he gets to spend with him, but it’s less than satisfying compared to what they used to have.

Still, they’re making do. Harvey tries, really tries to balance his sleeping schedule with work, Mike-time and a modicum of me-time that usually suffers the most, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay. It’s mostly him who dictates when they get to talk and when they have to cut the conversation short yet again, simply because he’s several hours ahead of Mike and the only time they can really squeeze a chat in, if at all, is right before he goes to bed.

He’ll admit that he’s spoiled in that regard, having gotten used to Mike’s immediate attention whenever he asks for it, to him keeping his evenings free during the time Harvey will be able to talk and generally being at his beck and call as much as possible.

It’s why he picks up on it right away when Mike is the one to drag things along for a change.

Performances have been going on for almost a month now, and to say that they’ve developed a routine would stretch the definition of the word a little, but they’ve figured out a way to make things work, to not lose sight of each other despite the very different lives they lead now.

They’ve been texting back and forth all day like they often do, with long breaks in between that Harvey would have thought nothing of if Mike had otherwise been the same.

He’s not, though.

Harvey notices him failing to respond to his questions, letting it slide for the moment with the intention to have a dig at him about his literacy later. But when he stops replying to him altogether, leaving him on read for three whole hours, he begins to wonder.

He’s never done that before. And at the risk of sounding self-absorbed, Harvey finds it hard to believe that he just forgot about him.

_Not to be clingy, but you okay?_

The response is almost immediate, which somehow only makes things weirder.

_Yeah. Sorry_

No explanation whatsoever. Harvey frowns.

_Everything alright?_

_Everything’s fine_

_Mike._

_Sorry. It’s fine, really. Just having a crappy day, that’s all_

Harvey can practically feel the weight of everything he isn’t saying through the text. That just won’t do.

_You got a minute? Can I give you a call?_

_Don’t you need to get going?_

Harvey takes that as a yes and goes straight to facetime him.

Mike looks unimpressed when he picks up, but even that doesn’t hide the tiredness around his eyes.

“You didn’t have to. I know you’re busy.”

“Nonsense.” Harvey waves his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

At the look he gives him, Mike sighs. “It’s Grammy.”

Harvey’s stomach sinks. “What happened?”

“Nothing, really. Not yet, at least. It’s just, you know her ankle? It’s- she sprained it again, and it’s not healing right.”

“What? How long has this been going on?”

It’s the first he’s hearing about it, but Mike looks equally displeased. “A while. She didn’t tell the nurses at the home, apparently. Only mentioned it when she slipped and hurt it again.”

“Damn,” Harvey mutters. “How bad is it?”

Mike sighs. “She had an appointment earlier, and apparently she needs surgery. It’s no big deal, but I just- she’s old, right? And there’s always a risk when you get anesthesia, and it just made me so worried, I couldn’t- I didn’t…”

Harvey frowns as Mike searches for words, the distraught look on his face evoking a growing suspicion in him that he can’t shake.

“Did you have a panic attack?”

Mike drops his shoulders, letting out a deep breath before he nods. “Sort of, I think.”

Of course. Harvey bites his tongue to hold back a curse. He should have been there for him. He should have realized.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright? How are you feeling now?”

He lifts his shoulders as if to shrug, but it only serves to make him look very small. Harvey’s heart contracts at the sight.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just… still worried, but I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“No,” he mutters, regarding him quietly. Then he asks, “Was that the first one since we talked about this during the play?”

Mike bites his lip and looks away.

Harvey sighs. “Mike.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why…“

“Don’t apologize. This isn’t a reproach in any way. I just… I wish you’d said something.”

Mike swallows. Harvey wonders if he would have, had he been there. If he’d let him help him like he did before. He knows it’s not his responsibility, but he still feels goddamn useless over here, an ocean away and five hours ahead of him.

“You know you can talk to me about these things, right?”

Mike’s shoulders slump as he gives him an almost pleading look.

“No, I do. I do know that. It’s just… hard to reach out in that moment. Especially when I know you’re doing something else.”

He’s evidently reluctant to say it, but it’s the truth, and there’s no point in beating around the bush.

“I know.”

He does. In fact, he’s intimately familiar with how hard it is to talk about these things. The distance probably isn’t making it any easier.

Mike straightens, bringing the phone closer to his face as he shifts.

“But it’s not like it’s been happening every week or something, that’s not- don’t go thinking I’ve been carrying around this huge secret, alright?”

“I’m not. And even if you had, what you tell or don’t tell me is up to you. It goes without saying that I want to hear about it, but you don’t owe it to me to talk about your feelings.”

“No, but I want you to know about them. I want you to be part of my life, and that includes all the bad bits too. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you before. I guess… I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you failed spectacularly in that regard. You think I can’t tell there’s something going on with you, even when you don’t tell me?”

Mike sighs. “Damn actors,” he mutters. “Always so focused on emotions.”

Harvey cracks a smile.

“Look, I don’t… want you to feel like you’re obligated to talk to me about this. I just want you to know that you can. I’m here to listen, anytime. No matter what else I have going on.”

“Alright, yeah. I’ll just ring you up while you’re on stage next time.”

Harvey gives him a look, and Mike chuckles before he drops his gaze. “Figure of speech, I know. And I really do appreciate it.”

He glances back up, taking a deep breath. “I’ve only had three of them since that first one. All since the play ended. I don’t think they’re getting more frequent unless there’s something triggering them, like today, but… I still don’t want that, you know? When something bad’s going on in my life, that’s already enough without a panic attack on top of it.”

“Absolutely.”

Mike nods, rubbing his neck in thought.

“I’ve been thinking that therapy probably wouldn’t be the worst idea. I mean, it generally isn’t, but specifically when it comes to this, I… wanna learn how to deal with it. I want to know that I have it under control.”

The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts as he nods in encouragement. “I think it’s a great idea. Do you want to look for someone yourself?”

“I haven’t thought about it in so many details. Just that I wanna do it.”

“Well, that’s a good start. It’s the first step to anything. You can give it some thought, and if you want, then I’d be happy to give you the number of the therapist I used to see. I think you’d get along with her.”

“That’s… good, yeah. Good to know. I’ll think about it.”

He returns his smile. “Alright, what else is going on with you? Got any good news for me too?”

“Harvey, it’s super late for you. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“It’s not that late,” he negates even though it is, but the rest of the cast will survive if he’s the last one to show up for once. As long as he’s not actually late, there’s no harm in lingering a little longer. “Tell me something, come on. How are things with your nemesis going?”

“Oh, we had a really big fight, actually. Funnily enough, we’ve been getting along much better since then.”

“Well, do tell,” Harvey says, settling in to listen as Mike dives into a lively recount of their argument, and even though it’s highly entertaining, he’s more focused on the way Mike is talking than anything else.

He still looks tired, younger somehow than he usually does, but his face is open and his smile genuine. He seems alright, not like he’s pretending to be but like he actually is.

It calms his persistent worries somewhat, and he’s happy to let him talk until he really has to get going.

“Well, go,” Mike says, chuckling. “I don’t wanna be responsible for the great and punctual Harvey Specter being late.”

“You won’t be, because I’m never late,” he remarks, then takes a moment to regard him. “Promise me you’ll do something to take care of yourself before you go to bed tonight, alright?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m already doing that,” he gives back cockily, but Harvey hears the softness underneath it loud and clear. “Don’t worry though. I’ll be fine. I’m gonna do some yoga, and then I’ll do my stretches for the split and take a nice, hot shower.”

“I still wanna see how that’s going sometime,” Harvey says. “The split, I mean. Though I’m not opposed to the shower either.”

“You will. Both of those. And just so you know, the split’s actually going really well. Like, surprisingly so.”

“Something to look forward to.”

They look at each other, the same wistful smile on their lips.

“I really have to go now,” Harvey says.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Take care, Mike. Text me if you need me.”

He nods. “Promise. And… thank you. For calling.”

“Anytime. I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know that too.” Biting his lip, he hesitates. “Harvey, I…“

“I know,” he tells him gently when he trails off.

Mike presses his lips together, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not saying it,” he promises.

“Me neither.”

He wonders if it would change anything at this point. If being apart could be any harder than it already is.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Yeah. Really soon.” Mike waves his hand a little. “Break a leg tonight!” he says, and before Harvey can ask him to please not do the same while stretching, he ends the call.

Letting out a deep breath, Harvey stares at his screen until it goes dark. A quick glance at the clock tells him that he needs to hurry, but he still has a few minutes if he takes a cab.

Enough time to do a quick Google search. Enough time to make a decision.

He already has, Harvey realizes. His mind is made up. Wasting no more time, he grabs his laptop and gets to work.

When he leaves the house ten minutes later, he’s in a surprisingly good mood considering that he’s most definitely going to be late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me dragging myself in my own fics... I agree with Harvey btw. Nothing sexy about a German accent.
> 
> I chose most of the new characters showing up in this as Harvey’s castmates at random (says a lot about how I feel about Paula that she didn’t even cross my mind, even though she’s British... and this is set in London...), and I’ve watched very little of season 8/9 of Suits. I based my characterisation of Samantha on some gifsets I saw and what I’ve been told about her by others. If it seems off, that’s why!
> 
> ‘Father’s Footsteps’ is not a real play, but one of my own ideas that I took the liberty of inserting here and complimenting myself on ;)


	15. Chapter 15

Mike never thought he’d be excited about homework one day.

He never thought he’d have homework to get excited about in the first place, not after he got kicked out of school and lost his scholarship, but then again it’s not the craziest turn his life has taken recently.

Here he is, in Harvey’s apartment, doing homework for Juilliard after his yoga class earlier that morning, and there’s nothing noteworthy about it save for the fact that he’s struggling to actually sit himself down and get the work done.

Typical Friday, all things considered.

Going back to school has proven to be everything Mike imagined and much, much more. He’s having an amazing time with his classes, even though Harvey jokingly called him an old stager after having played Honey ‘to perfection’ already. But the courses have high standards, challenging him in all the right ways, and if he gets the hang of something a little faster than the other students sometimes, that doesn’t make it any less fun to do.

It was an adjustment to transition to an educational setting after the months he spent working on a professional production, but it proved to be a welcome distraction from having to come to terms with the fact that it was over (a work in progress), as well as Harvey’s departure (an even bigger work in progress). Every single class he’s taking offers him a new range of motion, emotion, and self-expression to try out. He’s having a blast with it, even with ballroom dancing, which is admittedly challenging him the most, and yes, even with the homework, like the Shakespeare monologue rewrite he’s supposed to be doing right now.

‘Supposed to’ being the operative word here.

He almost laughed when his teacher first brought it up because it reminded him so much of his audition with Harvey, and choosing Macbeth was a given. But his initial excitement has long since worn off. As fun an exercise as it is, he just can’t seem to focus on it, and he has a pretty good idea of what’s distracting him.

He misses Harvey terribly today. He misses him every day, but it’s especially bad this time. It’s not that he doesn’t have anyone he could talk to around here; he has friends at school, and he still hangs out with Donna and Rachel on top of attending her yoga class twice a week, but none of them are quite as close to him as Harvey was, even before they became… whatever it is they are. And not even Rachel and her crazy stretching managed to cheer him up this week.

In fairness, it’s probably no wonder that he’s distracted right now. As much as he’d love to dive into his study material to take his mind off whatever else is going on in his life, it’s unfortunately taking up pretty much all the space in his head at any given moment.

There’s Harvey, of course, or better there _isn’t_ , because he’s gone, and no matter how much work they put into staying in touch, it’s just not the same. He misses him, misses working with him, with everyone on ‘Virginia Woolf’, and on top of that he’s still worried about his Grammy, and all of it is just building up into a miserable mess.

It’s not the first time that happened since the play ended by a long shot, but there are better and worse days, and he finds himself insufficiently equipped to deal with the situation today in particular.

On those days, he tends to get… restless. Itchy. He tends to make decisions that are questionable at best and downright disastrous for his state of mind at worst. He knows.

He just hasn’t yet figured out what to do about it.

Today’s bad idea is something he knows from the moment he first thinks about it he won’t be able to fight. The temptation, in form of the recording of the Macbeth production Harvey won a Tony for, is just too strong when it’s literally _right there_.

He’s been down this road before. This time it’s totally legit, though. It’s Macbeth, which basically makes it research, right? Maybe it will get him in the right mindset to finish his assignment. Maybe it’ll help with the ridiculously persistent yearning for Harvey that won’t give him a rest.

It’s never really helped with that before (he’s watched the recording a couple of times), but who knows. Today might be the day.

“Yeah, right,” Mike mutters.

It’s all bullshit, of course.

He knows it’s a terrible idea, knows that it will achieve nothing except make him feel even worse than he already does, but he can only fight himself on the matter for so long. It’s a losing battle, so he might as well give up already and just go for it.

The DVD is playing before he can convince himself of the opposite, and Mike grabs a pillow to hug as he sinks against the backrest and settles in for a lonely night.

No one can say he doesn’t know how to party.

The play _is_ good entertainment, of course. There’s no point in denying that.

He watches the whole thing to the end, and it’s goddamn brilliant, and he feels exactly as bad as he suspected he would once it’s over.

It’s not just seeing Harvey without _actually_ seeing him that leaves him in the dumps. It’s that it’s the wrong Harvey. He was younger when he did Macbeth, and totally different from how he used to be as Nick – which makes sense, because he’s an incredible actor and extremely versatile, but Mike still can’t stop looking at him and searching for _his_ Harvey in there.

It would probably be different if he watched the recording of ‘Virginia Woolf’, because he knows where to find him there, knows all the little looks and smiles that he’s seen on him off the stage plenty of times. He has it right here too, ready to be put on anytime, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it so far.

‘A superlative company achievement – most of us will be lucky if we see a better cast in our lifetimes,’ it says on the back, and Mike really wants to see it through the eyes of the audience, wants to go back and relive the memories now that it’s all over already.

He just knows it’s going to break his heart in an entirely different way though. And he’s already struggling enough with that as it is.

Besides, he promised Harvey they’d watch it together. He left before they could, but he still wants to keep his word. He wants to do this with him, when he’s back and they can be together again, at least for a while.

Maybe it won’t be as painful by then anymore.

_Yeah, right._

He checks his phone out of habit, but Harvey still hasn’t replied to his last text. Of course he hasn’t, it’s the middle of the night for him. He must have been really tired after his performance and gone to bed right away. Or he just forgot to respond. It happens.

Just because it doesn’t happen _often_ doesn’t give him the right to mope when it does.

Then again, with those few texts scattered throughout a limited part of his day being the only thing connecting him to Harvey sometimes, he feels like he’s entitled to mope all he likes. Because it’s goddamn hard. He expected that, but nothing prepared him for just _how_ hard it was going to be.

There are roughly 3,782 miles between New York City and London. 3,458 miles between Broadway and West End. Only 3,445 between this apartment and the place Harvey is staying at – Mike asked for the exact address specifically to calculate the distance.

It would take approximately 10 hours to get there, if he left right now. He could be there by noon tomorrow. He’s not going to, but he could. There’s a small comfort in that.

He likes to go somewhere else sometimes, near the coast, and recalculate the distance just for the hell of it. Tell himself that they’re closer now, even if they’re still apart.

It’s a pointless exercise, of course, and inaccurate at that. It assumes that Harvey is always in one place, that he doesn’t move. But in Mike’s mind, he doesn’t. He’s in the same place, a fixed point; he’s somewhere else, not here, and where exactly that is doesn’t make the slightest difference.

It gives him something to do, at least. Something to focus on other than how much he misses Harvey. Can’t exactly calculate that.

Not that it would make things any better. In fact, the only thing that actually would, apart from Harvey coming back here right this moment, is to just stop thinking about it.

Most days he does, or he tries, at least. On some days it’s just harder than others, but he knows it’s all the more important to keep his chin up and stay on top of everything then.

So he takes a deep breath and picks himself up from the sofa to at least try and work a little on his assignment.

He doesn’t get far, but it’s better than nothing when he puts it away half an hour later.

He checks his phone again despite better judgment, and when he finds himself disappointed even though he knew there wouldn’t be a text from Harvey, he decides that it’s time to call it a day.

He completes his nightly routine without much enthusiasm, though he relishes the stretches and the relaxation he feels once he’s through with them, and goes to bed, hoping that things will look better in the morning.

Things look pretty much the same when he wakes up, ridiculously early for a Saturday, except there’s still no message from Harvey and now he really has to get his assignment done if he doesn’t want to fall behind.

Luckily he’s got nothing else on.

Mike does finish his work and rewards himself with a big bowl of Reese’s Puffs cereal for brunch afterwards, wondering what the hell Harvey is up to that he can’t even text him.

God, he sounds like a spoiled brat. It’s not like he owes him any of his time, he knows that, and it probably has everything to do with his busy schedule and nothing with Mike himself, but he’s still put out.

Spending an entire weekend pining after the unattainable man he’s in love with is definitely not an option though, not if he still wants to respect himself come Monday, so Mike puts his phone somewhere he won’t be tempted to check it compulsively and decides to see if he can’t do something productive with his time and work ahead a little.

He settles down with some reading, briefly entertaining the idea of texting Donna or Rachel to see if they’re free tonight, or maybe Harold from school. He hasn’t talked to him that much, but he’s nice. Funny, in a helpless sort of way. Having a bit of trouble with finding his footing. He’d like to get to know him better. Maybe he wants to grab a drink, invite some of the others along.

It would take his mind off things, at any rate.

There’s a knock on the door before he can pick up his phone and make a decision, and Mike frowns until he remembers that he’s still got that package for Harvey’s neighbor down the hall. She must have returned from her trip then.

“I’ll be right there!” he calls out, though he’s not actually sure she can hear him, and retrieves the package where he put it to keep it out of the way.

“Sorry,” he says as he opens the door, “I didn’t think you were back already so I-“

“That’s because I didn’t tell you,” Harvey says when he stops mid-sentence, having the audacity to smile when Mike’s jaw drops.

The package slips out of his hands before he can do anything about it, the dull thump only registering as an afterthought.

Harvey glances downwards, lifting an eyebrow.

“I hope there’s nothing fragile in there.”

Mike couldn’t care less about the contents of the package.

“What the fuck,” he whispers, knowing that he’s staring and yet not being able to stop. “How are you here right now?”

“I took a plane. It’s a quite common means of transportation, actually.”

“Oh my god. It really is you, you fucking douchebag. Why didn’t you-“

He never finds an ending to that sentence, because no matter what he might have asked, nothing is more important, more urgent than closing the last bit of distance between them right now.

He steps over the package and flings himself at Harvey, who lets out a quiet _oof_ even as his arms close around him.

“God, it’s good to see you,” he murmurs, all traces of amusement gone. Mike swallows, not trusting his voice not to break if he speaks, so he only holds him tighter in response.

Harvey smells so good, so achingly familiar and real, and Mike draws back just enough to blindly seek his mouth. The small sound he lets out at the touch of their lips is entirely beyond his control as they melt into each other, clinging to the kiss like they’re dying and it’s going to save them somehow.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself when they separate, only inches apart.

“I missed you. God, I fucking- I missed you so much.”

He kisses him again, because it’s impossible not to, then pulls back to ask, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. Obviously.”

“Right. Obviously.” Mike rolls his eyes. “You just got on a plane here even though you have a show on Monday because you wanted to see me. As you do.”

Harvey just shrugs. “I thought it would make you happy. And I knew it would make _me_ happy, so there wasn’t really any reason not to do it. Especially with the one free weekend of the whole run coming up.”

“Except the colossal environmental crime you committed and the fact that you’ll be dead on your feet when you have to get on stage.”

“Like I said. Minor details.”

Mike sucks in his lip, searching his face.

“You really came here for me? Because you thought it’d cheer me up?”

“Didn’t it?”

“No, of course it did. I just…”

Mike swallows, and it’s almost ridiculous how violently the words on the tip of his tongue are trying to force their way out. There’s no chance in hell he’ll be able to keep them inside this time.

“Can I say it now?”

Harvey’s expression softens. “If you don’t, then I will.”

Mike swallows and takes his face in both hands. He places the gentlest kiss on his lips, then draws back to breathe out, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harvey kisses him once more, lingering a few seconds before he can feel him smiling and he retracts to say, “I guess that worked out in our favor.”

Mike chuckles, burying his face in the crook of his neck as he inhales deeply.

They stand there for a while, and he would have happily stayed like that forever if Harvey hadn’t shifted eventually, murmuring, “You know, as nice as this is…”

“Oh, jesus. Yeah, come in, come in, sorry I didn’t…”

Harvey just waves his hand when Mike takes a step back, picking the package up as he clears his throat. Now that the initial shock has worn off, he can take a closer look at Harvey, noticing the tiredness so obviously sitting in the lines of his face and the way he carries himself. Of course. He must have gotten up at the crack of dawn to be here now.

“You must be exhausted.”

Harvey nods, which in itself is an admission of how tired he is.

“How long are you staying, exactly?”

First things first. He can’t relax and enjoy the time they have until he knows just how much they have of it.

“I have to leave Monday morning,” Harvey says apologetically.

Mike lets out a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“You needed me.”

“You’ll be dead on your feet.”

He shrugs. “Worth it.”

Swallowing, Mike shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he informs him. “Absolutely ridiculous. And I love you so much, you have no idea.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually, but feel free to tell me all about it in perfect detail.”

“Oh, you bet your ass I will.” Mike narrows his eyes. “So we have about… 36 hours before you have to go?”

Harvey nods. “Listen, if you have any plans-“

“I don’t. Just visiting Grammy, but that’s it.”

“Well, good. We can visit her together, if you like.”

Mike beams at him. “I’d love that. And I think she would, too.”

“Perfect.” Harvey looks around, his eyes catching on his laptop. “If you have work to do, don’t let me keep you. I might lie down for a few minutes so I can stay up longer tonight. You can just pretend I’m not here and do what you usually do.”

“Yeah, right.” Mike huffs. “Like that’s gonna happen. I’ll lie down with you. We can nap together.”

“The ultimate date,” Harvey remarks dryly.

“Well, yeah. What’s better than this?”

“Right now? Nothing. I’ll just use the bathroom first. Be with you in a moment.” He turns to go, then pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“Also, if you think I’m going to let slide that you’re not just in my shirt, but the very Star Trek shirt you bullied me for whenever I wore it to rehearsals, think again.”

Mike sighs. “Yeah, I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”

It’s a habit he fell into the very first day after Harvey left, wearing the clothes he’d left behind in a pathetic attempt to feel closer to him, and it’s a little embarrassing to be caught red-handed like this, but it pales in comparison to the fact that Harvey is here to make fun of him for it at all.

He gets between the sheets as he waits, immediately scooting over to get closer when he joins him, burying his face in the pillow before letting out a content sigh.

“Your bed in London isn’t quite as comfy, huh?”

“No. It also doesn’t smell like you, so this one is the clear winner.”

Mike knows his grin is ridiculous, but Harvey just smiles at him with such softness in his eyes that he can’t bring himself to care.

He’s probably sleep-deprived, but Mike will take it.

“I have a question,” he admits when he pulls back from a brief kiss, biting his lip. “I know you’re tired and I promise I won’t keep you up by talking, but I just…”

“It’s fine,” Harvey says, lifting an amused eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“Are we… you know. Together?”

Harvey blinks at him, then bursts into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he says when Mike glares at him. “Just, objectively this is hilarious. I mean, look at what we’ve been doing for the past four months.”

“I _am_. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Well, let’s see. Before I left, we fell into bed with each other several times despite better knowledge, while also spending every free minute together even though we agreed it would be best not to date. After I moved, which, by the way, left us both heartbroken, we immediately started texting every day and facetiming most nights, thus _still_ spending every free minute together that our respective schedules allowed. Now here I am, in my bed that you’ve been sleeping in for the last couple of weeks since moving in here, because I couldn’t stand not seeing you even though the journey is taking almost as much time as we have together now. What do _you_ think?”

Mike gives him an annoyed look. “Can you just answer the question?”

Harvey chuckles. “Yes. I think we’re together, Mike.”

“Huh. Well, good. That’s… good.”

“I’ll say.”

Mike purses his lips. “I just… I mean, what made you change your mind?”

Exhaling slowly, Harvey’s gaze moves to the ceiling, the playfulness fading from his expression as he takes his time to think about the answer.

“I know why you’re asking. Nothing’s really changed, right? But that’s just it, I suppose. I wanted to give it some time, but time has passed, and the only thing that’s changed is that I love you even more now than I did before.”

Mike’s heartbeat stutters, painful in the best possible way. He’s not used to hearing him say it so freely yet, and part of him hopes that he never will be.

Harvey turns to regard him. “Look, relationships are tricky. Believe it or not, they’re the one area in which I don’t have complete faith in my abilities.”

Mike chuckles, and Harvey smiles too before he shrugs.

“I’m just figuring this out as I go along. I was… trying to protect you from getting hurt if I messed up, but I’m realizing that I only hurt you more in doing that. And I deprived both of us of- this. Of the safety of knowing that this is solid, and it’s not going to disappear. I don’t wanna do that anymore. We’ve waited long enough. Do I know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or a year from now? No. But what I do know is that this is… different.”

“Yeah?”

Harvey nods.

“Good different, I take it?”

“Very good, believe me.” He lets out a deep breath. “I’m not easily satisfied, Mike. I’m never happy, not really. Not without still wanting something else, wanting more. But you… make me happy. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. The only thing I want more of is you.” He lifts his shoulders. “Nothing’s ever perfect. And this isn’t either, obviously. But it’s as close as it gets. And I think that counts for something.”

Reaching for Mike’s hand, he traces his fingers before intertwining them with his.

“I don’t see my feelings on that changing anytime soon. If they do, or yours do, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Until then… let’s just enjoy it. I’m tired of holding back. I want all of you. Everything you’re willing to give.”

“Hm.” Mike purses his lips, blinking at the ceiling. “Alright, well, I _could_ return the big romantic gesture and make a long, heartfelt speech of my own now.”

“Or?” Harvey asks when he doesn’t continue, and Mike rolls over until he’s half on top of him, cradling his face to kiss him, rubbing their hips together.

“Or I could do this and let my actions speak for themselves.”

Harvey hums. “I think I like where this is going.”

“I’ll give the speech later then,” Mike murmurs, straddling him properly when he feels him responding to his experimental teasing.

Harvey nods, gazing at his lips. “Good idea. Save your breath.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll need it,” he agrees before he dives in for another kiss while kicking the duvet away.

He’s right. It can’t be anything other than short and sweet, but it’s the sweetest goddamn time they’ve ever had, and as he drinks in the sight of Harvey beneath him, the little sounds he lets out as he works him to completion, he’s not sure he could take anything more with how close to bursting his heart already is.

Harvey does fall asleep afterwards, his arms possessively wrapped around his middle, and while Mike is pleasantly worn out too, his mind is wide awake. He doesn’t want to waste a minute of their precious few hours together and uses the time to catalogue everything about Harvey and the things he just told him instead, how he looked at him as he said them, and it may be a little creepy, but it’s not like there’s anyone there to call him out on it.

Harvey wakes almost two hours later, stretching like a cat before he rolls onto his side to blink at him through hooded eyes. Mike has never seen a more adorable sight in his life.

“What time is it?”

“Just past three.”

“Mmh. When did you want to visit your grandmother?”

“Around now actually, but there’s no rush. We can go whenever you want.”

Harvey exhales slowly, rubbing his eyes.

“Let’s get ready,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna need a shower to wake me up and wash the travel off me though. No way I’m facing her like this.”

“Well, no. Definitely not like this,” Mike agrees with a glance at his naked body.

One quick shower later, a few kisses here and there slowing down the process of getting dressed, they’re both presentable and ready to go.

Harvey decides that he wants to walk to the nursing home after sitting so long on his flight, and Mike doesn’t mind the one-hour distance, but can’t resist a quip or two about how they’d get some exercise in _and_ save time if certain people had ever invested in a bike.

“We could also rent one,” he muses when he just gives him a look, and Harvey rolls his eyes.

“I don’t plan on spending one of my two days in the city renting a bike. I can think of better things to do with our time.”

“Like walking all the way to my grandmother’s nursing home?”

“For example. As long as you’re there too, what’s the rush?”

“Wow.” Mike shakes his head. “Are you always going to be this romantic from now on? You know, just so I can prepare myself for all the sappiness I’m gonna have to endure.”

Harvey just smiles, his lips brushing the shell of his ear as he wraps an arm around him and murmurs, “Make fun of me all you like, but remember that you’re more transparent than you think you are. And I’ve gotten pretty good at reading you over the past year. If I’m being overly sappy, it’s because I know exactly how much it pleases you.”

Mike does his best to suppress a shiver, if only because it would prove Harvey’s point of how well he knows him, and he’s not done teasing him yet.

“Hm, no. I think it’s because I just leveled up to being your boyfriend, and that upgrade reveals your true form with all the sappiness and romance you keep bottled up inside otherwise.”

Harvey disputes the point suspiciously little, which Mike takes as a win, and if he doesn’t let go of him the entire way to the home, he sure as hell isn’t going to complain about it.

He never said he was the only one who’s sappy, after all.

Despite the lingering exhaustion from the surgery two days ago, Grammy is awake when they arrive and predictably overjoyed to see that Mike has brought company. She looks very happy to see Harvey, though she’s probably even more delighted for Mike than herself. She’s been suffering through his thinly veiled heartache for months now, after all. He doesn’t need to tell her how thrilled he is, she could probably read it from his face the minute he stepped into her room.

She does know him so well. Just like Harvey does, and Mike didn’t realize how much he missed having the two of them in the same room until he sees it before him, and the feeling taking hold of him when they embrace like old friends, like family even, is impossible to put into words.

“What are you doing here?” Grammy wants to know when he pulls back and sits down in the chair beside her bed. She’d usually make a fuss about sitting at a table when people are over, but she seems too smitten with Harvey’s presence to care. “Mike told me you wouldn’t be back for another two months.”

“He came to see me,” Mike tells her before Harvey can respond. “As a surprise. It was, like, super romantic.”

Harvey shoots him a look while Grammy lets out an amused chuckle. “My, my. How wonderful.”

“I found myself with a free weekend on my hands,” Harvey explains with a pointed glance at him, “and since I’d heard about the surgery, I figured that Mike could use some company to take his mind off things. Though I can’t say it was entirely altruistic. Really, I just wanted to see him. I miss him a lot.”

He takes Mike’s hand with a smile, not letting go when Grammy clears her throat and lifts an eyebrow.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but does this mean you two are… making things official now?”

“Oh, god,” Mike mutters.

“I do believe we are,” Harvey confirms. She regards him thoughtfully, then nods, a smile playing on her lips.

“Well, good. Very good. I’m not sure I could have listened to his lovelorn lamentations about you any longer.”

“Grammy!”

“What? There’s no need to be ashamed, Michael. Especially when your man just admitted in front of both of us how much he missed you.”

Mike covers his eyes with his hand. “This isn’t happening.”

“Oh, come on now, honey. You think I didn’t know you missed me?”

“No, and obviously I did miss you, but not- I wasn’t _that_ bad about it.”

“You really were,” Grammy remarks. Mike drops his hand and gives her an incredulous look.

“Would you mind remembering which one of us is your grandson? You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Grammy tuts, while Harvey makes no effort whatsoever to stifle his laughter. Mike would have scolded him if the sound hadn’t been so infuriatingly charming.

“There are no _sides_.”

“Right,” he mutters. “Just me and ‘my man’, I guess.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Harvey says, squeezing his hand before turning to Grammy. “And now that that’s settled, we can move on to the important things. How are you doing? Mike told me the procedure went well. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, you know how it is.” She waves her hand. “I’m not as young as I used to be, but my time hasn’t come yet. It takes more than a sprained ankle to take me out.”

“Evidently. You look rather chipper for someone recovering from surgery.”

“Which is still no reason to tempt fate, is it?” Mike asks, raising his eyebrows when Grammy gives him an innocent look. “And hopefully you’ve learned your lesson about saying something when you’re in pain next time.”

“Well, with a bit of luck there won’t be a next time, will there? But let’s not talk about that. I’m bored to death with it.” She turns to Harvey. “Tell me all about London. Such a beautiful city, isn’t it? Are you enjoying it?”

“I am,” Harvey agrees. “And it is beautiful. Totally unlike New York, obviously. You’ve been there before?”

“Twice. Years ago, though. Back when Michael’s grandfather was still alive. I’m sure it looks very different now.”

“Has Mike shown you any of the pictures I sent him? I have them right here if you want to see them.”

She nods, and Harvey sits up, leaning in to give her a better view of his phone as he scrolls through his gallery, stopping every now and then when he finds a good picture to tell her where it was taken.

Mike is pretty sure he doesn’t have any explicit images in that folder – he wouldn’t be so careless and forget to delete or move them somewhere else – but still watches the whole scene in mild disbelief.

Harvey isn’t an open person, generally speaking. He’s not closed off either, not visibly, but Mike witnessed firsthand that he is very careful with what he reveals to other people and what’s reserved for those in his inner circle.

There must be some at least semi-private pictures in there. A stone-faced selfie he sent Mike in front of Big Ben, a snapshot of his outfit for rehearsals, the dinners he asked him to take pictures of, all revealing small, but not insignificant details about him. The fact that he’s letting Grammy see them without a second thought speaks volumes to him.

And it’s not the only thing he picks up on.

It’s probably imperceptible to anyone else, but it isn’t just Harvey who knows how to read him. It goes both ways, and Mike can tell that something’s different, notices his slackened shoulders, the unguarded look on his face as he talks to Grammy, how his way of speaking is just a little more careless than before.

Harvey is not trying anymore. He’s not trying to charm her, does it only because that’s who he is even when he isn’t making an effort. He’s not trying to leave a good impression. He’s just… calm. Relaxed. Not quite as suave as he tends to be with others around and thus a little rawer around the edges, a little more real.

Mike loves him so much he could cry.

The others don’t notice his touch of sentimentality, too caught up in their conversation, which gives him enough time to recover his wits and clear his throat before he joins in on what they’re talking about.

Time passes quickly, too quickly considering how little of it they have, and Mike only notices how long they’ve been there when Grammy’s eyes start drooping as she listens to them.

“I think we’re gonna head home in a bit,” he announces, lifting a finger when she blinks at him. “You should be getting some rest, and Harvey had a long journey this morning.”

“Of course. You must be exhausted, Harvey. And I’m sure you didn’t fly all the way here to see _me_ anyway,” she adds with a knowing smile.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Harvey drops his voice. “Just don’t tell him I secretly came for you.”

“I can hear you just fine, you know. And you’re lucky you said all these sappy things to me before, so I’m going to let this slide just once.”

Harvey rises from his chair with a smirk. “See? I knew you liked it when I do that.”

He turns to Grammy when Mike rolls his eyes, who is watching the exchange fondly, and gives her a hug.

“We’d best be on our way then. It was lovely seeing you, Edith. Don’t scare us like that again, alright?”

Mike huffs, because he doubts she’s going to listen to Harvey more than to him. Then again, with the way she’s beaming at him, he might actually get somewhere with this.

Typical. Looks like the inability to resist Harvey’s charms runs in the Ross family.

They say their goodbyes and leave her to it after Harvey promises to be back once he’s on American soil again, and Mike stops for a quick chat with the nurse on their way out, who just so happens to be handsome nurse David.

Harvey shows no sign of recognition as he stands beside him and waits, but he does put a casual arm around his shoulders as they discuss Grammy’s medication, which Mike thinks is hilarious.

“Is someone jealous, perhaps?” he teases once they’re out of earshot.

Harvey just scoffs. “I’m not. And if I were, it would only be because he gets to see you more often than I do.”

“In person, yeah. Otherwise you’re still my number one guy.”

The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts. “Good.”

Glancing at him, Mike shakes his head. He doesn’t know what’s more ridiculous; Harvey, or the fact that he finds this whole thing absolutely adorable.

“Okay, we gotta figure out what we’re doing for dinner,” he says when his stomach rumbles, putting a hand on his belly. “Lunch was ages ago.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “Oh my god. You didn’t even have anything at the apartment. When was the last time you ate?”

“On the plane.” Harvey shrugs. “It wasn’t great, but it kept me full for a while.”

“Yeah, except that was like eight hours ago, if not more, so we’re definitely going to have dinner right fucking now.”

“Fine by me. I could eat as well.”

“Are you in the mood for anything in particular? Something super American that you can’t get your hands on in England? Or one of those fancy ass restaurants you like so much, maybe? I mean, it _is_ Saturday and we don’t have reservations, but we could try to play the famous actor card and see if they can squeeze us in.”

Harvey shrugs. “We can go wherever you want. Your choice.”

“Well, what do _you_ want?”

“Honestly, I’d be perfectly happy to just go home with you and have some pasta and tomato sauce, or whatever we have on hand.”

Mike hums, pretending he isn’t momentarily distracted by how wonderfully warm he feels inside when Harvey refers to the apartment as their home. It’s still too soon for that, no doubt, but it’s… something to consider. To keep in mind for the future, perhaps. “I think we could manage something a little more upscale than that, though pasta is definitely on the table. Let’s go home, then.”

“Unless you’d rather go out. I really don’t mind either way.”

“I mean, if we’re being technical then I actually prefer having you all to myself. Also, there’s more privacy at home, which is a big bonus if you ask me.”

“Convincing argument, counsellor. That settles it then. Let’s go home.”

After a quick inventory, they decide on a basic pasta bake with creamy lemon sauce and all sorts of veggies.

Harvey helps chop the ingredients, then hangs back and leans against the counter as he watches him assemble what he needs for the sauce, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. This recipe worked out fine the last time he tried it, but he only had himself to please then, and certainly not an audience while he mixed everything together and adjusted the seasoning more times than he cares to admit.

He doesn’t really mind though. Harvey’s silent presence makes for rather enjoyable company, and every time Mike catches his eyes there’s a smile on his lips that has nothing to do with mocking him.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed,” he eventually says, nodding at the array of ingredients he has lined up on the counter.

Mike glances at him, amused.

“Because I’m cooking, or because I keep stuff to cook around in the first place?”

“Both. I thought I’d have to do all the work, but this doesn’t look like a complete disaster.”

He snorts. “Did you think I was lying to you all this time when I talked about cooking?”

“Not at all. I just didn’t realize you’d actually made a habit of it. You look a little overwhelmed, granted, but not completely helpless.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Mike mutters. “If you think you don’t have to try anymore because I’m a sure thing now that we’re together, think again. I like to be courted, so you need to step up your game.”

He hears Harvey moving, but still startles when his arms wrap around his middle, pulling him in until he’s flush against his chest.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel unappreciated,” Harvey murmurs, and Mike shivers a little when his warm breath brushes his ear before he rests his chin on his shoulder. “Is this helping, by any chance?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s a start. I mean, I can’t really move or do anything, but… it’s nice, yeah.”

It’s more than nice, and he’s pretty sure Harvey can tell from the way he melts into him, if the chuckle he lets out is anything to go by.

“Nice,” he repeats, humming lowly. “Not what I was going for, to be honest. I think I can do better than that. Step up my game, as you put it.”

He turns his head to nuzzle Mike’s neck, the faint touch of his lips tickling his skin so much that it can’t be an accident. Mike squirms, torn between moving away and getting closer, but he’s still locked in Harvey’s embrace, holding him so tightly that he couldn’t pull back if he wanted to.

“What are you doing?” he gets out breathlessly, something between a laugh and a reproach, but Harvey just hums again.

“What do you think?”

He loosens his hold around him, only to move his hand over his stomach, getting dangerously close to his groin before he slides beneath his shirt.

Mike’s breath hitches when he brushes the warm flesh of his tummy, his intentions clear.

“I usually wouldn’t complain, but is this really the best time? The sauce is going to burn.”

“Pay attention then. Wouldn’t want you to starve after all your hard work.”

“Or you could just stop distracting me and wait until after dinner.”

“I thought this was what you wanted?” Harvey asks, his voice far too innocent for the direction his hand is taking. Mike swallows, sighing quietly when he places a kiss on the juncture of his neck, his tongue flicking over his pulse briefly. “I’m making an effort. Showing you how much I appreciate you. How much I want you…”

“Okay, you know what? On second thought, _don’t_ step up your game.” He’s not sure he’d survive that. “I feel sufficiently appreciated, don’t worry.”

“I can’t just switch it off. It’s my natural charm.”

Mike could dispute the point, but before he can gather his thoughts, Harvey digs his fingers into his side as he kisses his neck and then has the audacity to chuckle at his indignant shriek.

“Alright, just- stop!” Mike laughs, then turns around and waves his cooking spoon before his face. “I need to focus. If this turns out shit, it’s on you.”

Harvey regards him thoughtfully, then places a kiss on his forehead and steps back to release him.

“Fine. I’ll stop, because I want you to have a nice dinner and I appreciate all the work you put into the preparations already. Like a good partner does.”

“Jesus,” Mike mutters, rolling his eyes as he turns back to the stove. “I’m never implying anything about your qualities as a boyfriend ever again. It’s not a fucking competition.”

If it were, he’s sure Harvey would be winning anyway. He’s a showoff like that.

Without any further distractions, the sauce doesn’t burn and lands in the oven with the pasta, the veggies, and a generous amount of cheese on top a few minutes later.

He’s rather pleased with the outcome when he puts it on the table – it may not be pretty enough to end up on a food blog, but he’s seen worse. He’s _made_ worse.

More important than that is the taste, of course, and he tries not to preen too obviously when Harvey takes the first bite and tells him that it’s _actually good_ in a tone of slightly insulting, but genuine surprise.

“I did tell you, this kitchen is sweet enough to inspire even me. Though your constant nagging about my eating habits might have something to do with that too.”

“I don’t _nag_ ,” Harvey scoffs.

“Right. Cause you’re perfect. How could I forget?”

“You say that like you’re joking, but we both know you think it’s true.”

Mike huffs. He’s not wrong – perfectly imperfect describes it pretty well, he personally thinks – but there’s really no need to boost his ego even more when he’s already acting up like this.

Mike has chosen a ridiculous man to love indeed.

“Oh, haven’t you realized yet? I’m only dating you for your apartment.”

Harvey just laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“You are so full of yourself.”

“You’re not the first person to say that to me.”

Mike gives him a look.

“Anyway,” he changes the subject, “my point still stands about the kitchen. Believe it or not, but I’ll actually miss it when I move out.”

He hasn’t signed anything yet, but he heard about a student in her last year at Juilliard who’s looking for a new tenant by the end of the semester, and since he was the first to ask for a tour and found it to his liking, she told him she’d refer him to her landlord. He’s still waiting to hear from him, but he has a good feeling about the whole thing.

The place itself is nice enough, a definite downgrade from this apartment, but then again everything is. It’s also close to Juilliard, close to Harvey’s place, _and_ close to the nursing home, which is pretty much as good as it gets. He’d be able to move in just two weeks after Harvey is set to return from London too, so that would work out perfectly.

“Well, you can always move back in,” Harvey points out in complete contrast to his train of thought.

Mike blinks at him.

“I mean, I assume you’ll need your space back eventually, whether you stay here for your next job or… leave again. And if you do stay, I’m gonna have to be the sensible one and say that no matter how great a boyfriend you are, it’s still a little too soon to move in together.”

The idea does appeal to him, no matter what he’s saying, but what appeals to him even more, as small a detail as it may be, is getting to refer to Harvey as his boyfriend. It’s mad how a simple word like that can feel so goddamn amazing.

“For now, yes. But it won’t always be. Once we’re out of the honeymoon phase, you might as well get back here and save yourself the rent.”

“Wow. I’m getting whiplash from how fast you’re going from ten to zero on the romance scale.”

“Good. That’ll keep the spark alive a little longer.”

“Oh, I really don’t think you need to worry about that.”

Mike leans across the table, smiling until Harvey meets him halfway and kisses him.

“Speaking of my next job,” he says once they’ve resumed eating, and Mike’s eyes snap up. “I’ve got news about that, actually. Good news.”

“Oh?”

He nods. “The other night, I was approached by a director after a show. Edward Darby. He invited me for a drink, and then he made me an offer. Wanted me as one of the leads in this new play he’s directing. A family chronicle of sorts. Rather interesting.”

“Oh,” Mike repeats. “That sounds… great.”

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “I’m not taking it, obviously. I did say it was good news.”

“You getting to be in amazing plays is always good news, Harvey,” he points out.

“Well, yes. But this is better.”

“I’ll say.” His brow furrows as he regards him. “Are you sure about this, though? I mean, that sounds pretty good. What’s the role, exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Harvey waves his fork around. “I’m having a good time in London, and I’m glad I took this job, but it’s time for me to move on. There’ll be good offers in the States too. And I want to come home. It’s time,” he repeats, gentler now.

Mike lowers his fork, something hesitant fluttering in his stomach that he quickly identifies as hope. He _can_ hope now, right? This doesn’t really mean anything, but at least Harvey will be in the same goddamn country. That has to count for something.

“So you’re actually coming back once ‘Good’ is over. Not just for a quick stop, I mean, but for real. You’ll look for work… here.”

“I am definitely coming back, yes. I don’t know what my next project is going to be, so I can’t really tell you _where_ it’ll be, but Donna has a few things lined up for me that I want to look into. Most of them are in New York. All of them are on this side of the country.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “That good enough for you?”

Mike swallows, sucking in his lip.

“It’s amazing, and you know it. I just… I don’t want you to give up anything for me. I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret that you didn’t take this chance.”

“Fair point, but I’m not giving it up for you. It was my choice, one I made for _us_ , and I stand by that. Like I said, there are other great projects here. But there is only one you, and holding on to that is something I’m happy to prioritize.”

He must still look doubtful, because Harvey nudges his foot under the table, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not that I’m moving back here to limit myself to exclusively working in the city from now on. I may not always be in New York, and maybe you won’t be either, who knows? But we’ll figure that out when the time comes, together. As a team. And right now, this is where I want to be next. I’m not giving anything up, Mike. Really. I didn’t even have to think about it.”

“Alright. I… yeah, okay. That’s- good. Great.” He clears his throat and picks up his fork again. “So you’re coming home. Actually coming home. In two months.”

“Not so bad, is it?”

“No,” Mike agrees, a smile growing on his lips. “Not bad at all.”

That means they’re more than halfway through already. And it’s not that it’s been easy, on the contrary. But they’ve made it through despite that, which means that no matter what comes after this, they’ll get through it too. And eight weeks after months of separation? That’s nothing. Child’s play.

Besides, they still have all day tomorrow before that. And the whole night too.

Their conversation turns to different topics after that, getting more lighthearted as they determine who has the funnier stories to tell between Harvey’s experiences with his castmates and Mike’s classes (Mike admits defeat eventually, but only because Harvey has a way of making anything sound entertaining when he wants to).

“Let me,” he says when Mike reaches for the baking dish once they’re done, rising from his seat. “I’ll clean up. You did most of the cooking, after all.”

“Chore division, huh? I like that.”

“See, we’re already figuring things out,” Harvey remarks, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk, and god, how he missed seeing that look on him in person.

Despite his insistence, Mike gets up as well to carry their plates to the kitchen, putting them on the counter before he steps behind Harvey and wraps his arms around him.

Harvey continues loading the dishwasher, but chuckles when he starts leaving a trail of soft kisses on his neck.

“Now who’s the one distracting me?”

“I thought you were up for it earlier. I’m just picking up where you left off. Unless you don’t want to anymore…”

Harvey lets out a quiet laugh, shifting a little when Mike brushes the soft patch behind his ears where he’s particularly sensitive.

“I do want to, believe me. I just also want the kitchen to be clean so we don’t have to take care of that later on.”

“So all that stuff you said about prioritizing me was just you talking big then? That’s disappointing.”

Huffing, Harvey puts the plates back down and turns in his embrace, wrapping his arms around him.

“You’re terrible at manipulating me, you know that?”

Mike hums, closing the distance between them to kiss him, taking his time as he parts his lips and grazes the seam of his mouth until he makes those quiet little sounds in the back of his throat that he loves so much.

“Am I? Because I rather think it’s working,” he murmurs, and when he takes Harvey’s hand and pulls him along to the bedroom, he follows him willingly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Mike sighs when they’re on the bed and Harvey pulls his shirt over his head. He touches his chest, unable to resist the desire to run his hands over the warm skin, the scarce amount of hair that feels so good beneath his fingers. He leaves a few kisses down his sternum, then rolls them over until he’s half on top of him, settling between his legs when Harvey spreads them to make space for him.

“So much. You can’t even… god. I love you. I’m so glad you’re here. Even though I still think you’re crazy for doing this.”

“Well, it just goes to show how hopelessly infatuated I am with you,” Harvey says, smirking when Mike pulls back and narrows his eyes.

“You still think this is a competition, huh? Should have known. As much as I appreciate it, you’re making me look bad with all those big romantic gestures.”

Harvey runs a hand down his side, settling low on his hip.

“Don’t worry. You’re looking pretty damn good from where I’m standing. Though it _would_ be better if you got rid of those clothes.”

“Hm. I hope you realize the same goes for you.”

He draws back enough for Harvey to lose his pants and underwear, settling right back in once he’s undressed too.

“Much better,” Harvey agrees when Mike has left a lingering kiss on his lips, putting one arm around him while the other moves between them to wrap around his cock.

Mike makes an encouraging sound, canting his hips as he leans in to kiss him again, then asks against his lips, “What do you want to do?”

“Whatever you want. I’m up for anything. Though I really am enjoying this view,” he adds, gazing up at him appreciatively.

“Hmm. Well, you’ve had a long day, so why don’t you stay where you are and let me take care of the rest?”

“With pleasure,” Harvey agrees, his hand trailing up his stomach until it rests on his chest. “You wanna do me?”

“If you’re down, do you even have to ask?”

“I’m more than down, believe me.” He pauses, then continues, “I haven’t been with anyone else. Just so you know.”

“Are you telling me that because you want me to know, or to ask if _I’ve_ been with anyone?”

Harvey lifts his shoulders. “I wouldn’t hold it against you. We weren’t exclusive before today.”

Mike chuckles, shaking his head. “Yes, we really were.” He cups Harvey’s face, meeting his lips halfway before he says, “I haven’t been with anyone else either. Should I skip the condom then?”

“If you want. Just know that if you make a mess, I’ll have to leave the bed to shower.”

“Best not make a mess then,” Mike murmurs and leans over to the nightstand to get the lube.

Spreading his legs wider, Harvey gives him better access, stroking himself lazily as Mike opens him up. He watches him the entire time, quiet save for the occasional sighs of pleasure he lets out, which should be weird or uncomfortable, but it’s really not.

“All done,” Mike announces when he feels that Harvey is ready, dropping a kiss on the inside of his knee before lubing himself up. “You wanna keep watching, or…?”

“Why change the channel when the show is so good?”

Mike snorts. “That’s a terrible metaphor. Suit yourself, though. I like seeing you too.”

“I know you do. It’s a win-win situation.”

“And we both know how much you love those,” Mike finishes, chuckling as he lines up his cock with Harvey’s entrance and, after a quick glance at his face, pushes in.

“Ah. Yeah,” Harvey murmurs, his lips parted as the amusement fades to make room for that intoxicating mix of arousal and concentration that Mike has pictured in his head so many times while he was gone. “Go on, that’s good. That’s good.”

“Good,” Mike repeats, shaking his head as he pushes in all the way. “I’ll show you good, you just wait.”

“I am waiting.”

Mike slaps his arm, rolling his eyes when he wraps it around him to pull him closer in response. “Dickhead. You okay?”

“Better than. Now you just have to start moving and I’ll be happy.”

Someday, Mike is going to teach him a lesson about patience. Not today, though. Not when he’s just as eager to get going as him.

He pulls back slightly, then pushes in again, picking up a slow pace once he’s sure that the wonderfully intense friction won’t bring this to a premature end.

It’s been a while since they had sex like this, but Mike has savored the memories of the last time, making sure he remembers everything, how Harvey likes to be touched while he fucks him and what angles he needs to squirm, and it doesn’t take him long to fall back into it, affirmed by the encouraging sounds he lets out.

Harvey moans beneath him every time he hits the right spot, looking like all his wet dreams and fantasies come to live as he strokes himself to the rhythm Mike dictates. He’s in no way passive despite Mike’s earlier claims of doing all the work, canting his hips to meet his thrusts, touching him in places that shouldn’t be as sensitive as they are beneath his fingers, wrapping his legs around his waist at one point like he wants to pull him closer despite the fact that they’re as entangled as it gets. Their wandering hands never leave each other, as if to reassure themselves that they’re really here.

Mike remembers how sex with Harvey feels perfectly, but it still overwhelms him to be inside him again, to feel him like this, hear all the noises he makes and watch him come undone bit by bit. It’s tempting, so goddamn tempting to just let loose and chase the gratification he wants so badly, but something keeps him from giving in to his primal instincts, reminding him to slow down and really cherish every moment, make sure he feels all of it as deeply as he can while it’s still happening.

They won’t get to be with each other for a while soon, but they still do now. They’ve got time. There’s no rush.

For all his teasing about getting on with it, Harvey seems to share that opinion. He tells Mike exactly what and when he needs it, _more_ and _harder_ only being two of the things he breathes out every once in a while, something between a plea and an order that is so intoxicating to Mike that he can’t help but comply. But he doesn’t rush him, doesn’t get himself off by taking matters – quite literally – into his own hands, instead just following his lead, chasing the sensation of being joined rather than the release that’s waiting at the end of it.

They do get there eventually, when the heat makes their cheeks flush and the tension building in his stomach grows too strong to fight off any longer, and the slow build-up carries him over into a climax so intense that he loses complete control over his body for one blissfully ecstatic moment.

Harvey doesn’t need much more either, gladly letting Mike finish him off when he kisses a wet trail down his stomach before taking him into his mouth, the salty precome already hinting at what’s ahead.

“Jesus,” Harvey mutters when Mike pulls back only once he’s spent himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before rolling off him and dropping on the sheets beside him.

“Yeah.”

“That alone was worth the trip here.”

“Agreed.”

He glances over at him, taking his hand with a serene smile, careful to avoid the mess he left on his stomach.

“I’ll get you a tissue in a minute,” he promises. “Just need to… lie here for a second.”

“Fine by me,” Harvey agrees, sounding equally worn out, and Mike’s smile only grows as he lifts their hands to press a kiss to his knuckles.

He does get him a tissue, switching the lights off on his way back and cuddling up to him once he’s wiped himself clean. Tired as he is, he finds himself reluctant to close his eyes and miss even a second of Harvey’s being here, never mind several hours, but in the end there’s not much he can do to fight it.

Though there _is_ something to be said about drifting off after an orgasm like that, with Harvey’s scent all around him and his steady, calm breathing right next to his ear the last thing he picks up on.

It’s still early when Mike next opens his eyes. Harvey is up already, reading something on his phone beside him, and despite his tiredness Mike knows he’s not going back to sleep again.

After a much quicker repeat performance of last night, they get up to shower and have breakfast. Mike glances at the clock once they’re done, wrapping his hand around his lukewarm coffee as he leans back.

“Alright, it’s only nine thirty, so we’ve got the whole day ahead of us. Anything in particular you feel like doing? Wanna go and visit anyone while you’re here?”

Harvey just lifts his shoulders. “I came here for you. I don’t need to see anyone else. As for activities, I’m not picky. We can stay in all day if you want, or we could go out and have an actual date. It’s up to you.”

“I mean, as far as I’m concerned, this entire weekend is one massive date. And it’s pretty much the best I’ve ever been on.”

“I know you’re trying to be romantic, but that does make me concerned about your dating history.”

“You should be glad. Sets the bar lower for you.”

He snorts at the look Harvey gives him, then hums in thought.

“Alright, well, how about we just… take a walk in Central Park and see where we end up? I think it’s supposed to rain later, but we can still go back then and have a night in. I guess we shouldn’t stay up too late anyway, since you’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

The thought is sobering, bringing to the forefront of his mind what he’s been trying to block out since Harvey got here yesterday; sometimes more, sometimes less successfully. They just have one more day before he leaves again.

But that’s better than nothing. There’ll be time for separation anxiety once they’ve actually separated. No need to spoil their remaining time with that.

“Sounds good,” Harvey agrees. “Although there’s one more thing I want to do. Or rather want _you_ to do. I seem to recall something about a split?”

“Oh, you wanna see my progress with your own eyes, huh? You don’t believe that I can do it?”

“Of course I believe it. You’ll get there in due time. I’d just like a… sneak peek so I don’t have to rely on the mental images you’re giving me every time you mention it.”

“I’ll get there,” Mike repeats, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Right, well, I’d better warm myself up then if you want a demonstration. To give you a _sneak peek_.”

Harvey watches him rise from his seat to get on the floor, taking a deep breath before he leans across his legs, grabbing his feet.

“How long does it take?” Harvey inquires when he holds the position for several moments without moving.

“About fifteen minutes. Don’t be so impatient, I’ll show you soon enough.”

“I’m not impatient. Just curious.”

“You’re also staring,” Mike mutters when he moves on to the next stretch. “It’s distracting.”

Harvey huffs, but he hears him shift and gather their plates a few seconds later, using the time to clean up.

“You want more coffee?” he asks when he’s loaded the dishwasher.

“No, I’m good.”

He’s more than good – he’s almost through with his routine, feeling warm and loose, and he gets into position for the split, leaning into the final stretches before he lowers himself all the way down.

“I thought we could get some when we’re out later,” he carries on. “You must be missing Bluestone Lane. I don’t know how you manage without your daily dose of overpriced caffeine in London.”

“Oh, they have plenty of that of their own, believe me,” Harvey remarks, wiping down the coffee machine before he rounds the counter and goes back to the living room. “I’ve tried a few, and while none of them are quite as good as Bluestone Lane, I’ve found one or two near the theater that’ll keep me overwater until the end of the run.”

“Well, good. You can stop by there tomorrow when you return from the airport and head straight to the show.”

“I intend to. They have this double espresso shot that really gives you-“

Mike grins at him when he stops short, his mouth hanging open when he sees his legs flush against the floor.

“Jesus, Mike.”

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

It’s still hard, leaving him grinding his teeth against the strain that borders on too uncomfortable, but he can hold it for almost a minute now if he really focuses. There’s room for improvement, lots of it, but he’s counting this as a clear success, and Harvey seems inclined to agree, the appreciative gaze wandering over his body making him want to hold out even longer.

“You never told me you actually got there. Someone’s been keeping back.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised. And impressed. And somewhat turned on.”

Mike chuckles, then lets out a deep breath and winces as he drops back and shakes his legs. “I wanted it to be a little more graceful than that, but since you showed up earlier than planned… it’ll look better next time.”

“It looks good enough from where I’m standing,” Harvey informs him, stopping just before him to hold out his hands.

Mike lets himself be pulled up, smiling when he immediately steps closer to bring their lips together.

“You’re very hot,” he murmurs when he draws back. “And very impressive. And I love you very much.”

“Wow. That’s a better reaction than I hoped for. I’ll have to think of something else to impress you with once I’ve mastered the split,” Mike teases, grinning before he leans in again, happy to draw out the kiss for as long as he can.

“Come on,” he says when he finally steps back, patting Harvey’s arm. “Let’s get dressed.”

Central Park is busy enough when they get there, but not as crowded as it is on a summer’s day. Mike lets Harvey lead the way, picking his favorite route with their hands firmly entwined for most of the walk. He spares a thought for people that might recognize them, but doesn’t waste much time on the matter. If they’re seen, so be it. If Harvey isn’t worried about that, then he sure as hell isn’t either.

Of course, they inevitably end up at Bluestone Lane, treating themselves to a large coffee each and two of the muffins they have on display. Mike takes a picture of their food and the cups, Harvey’s hand on the table next to it, and posts it to his Instagram story with the caption ‘coffee date’ and a little heart. Let people make of that what they will.

It does start to rain eventually, and they just so make it home without getting drenched, spending the rest of the afternoon on the sofa together, practically attached at the hip for the precious few hours they have left, until Mike’s stomach rumbles and Harvey glances at him.

“What?” he defends himself. “It’s dinner time, alright? I’d usually be eating right now.”

“You’re always eating. I’m getting hungry too, though. Wanna order in?”

“I can just cook something. No, really, I’ll do it. It’ll be quick and… not terrible.”

“Sounds promising,” Harvey deadpans. “I’ll give you a hand.”

“Alright, but only if you actually mean helping and not using that hand to grope me.”

“You’ve never complained before. Is this the stage of our relationship where you lose interest in me, physically?”

Mike snorts. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. No, I just need to focus while I’m cooking or else I won’t get the seasoning right.”

“Right,” Harvey agrees. “Because you don’t have ‘the touch’.”

He trails after him into the kitchen, lifting an eyebrow when he reaches for a box of pasta.

“Again?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Hm. You know, I can totally experiment with something new and serve it to you, but I can’t promise it’ll be any good. Or edible.”

“Pasta is fine, thanks,” Harvey remarks dryly.

“Thought so. I’m even putting some veggies in there, on top of the tomato stuff. Just for you. Happy?”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply.”

“Come on, we both know how you get. ‘Put some vitamins in there, Mike. That’s not a balanced diet, Mike. You need to watch your nutrient intake, Mike.’ It’s never-ending.”

They keep bickering until the food’s on the table, not just because it’s fun, but because it takes their mind off of other things, like how late it already is and how quickly this day passed.

Harvey tries the sauce first, rolling his eyes when Mike gives him an expectant look.

“I’ll admit that this is good, but you gotta promise me that you’ll work on your range. You may be a student again, but you can’t live off pasta every night.”

“Technically, I totally can. But I hear you, and you know what? I might just impress you with a super fancy new dish when you get back next.”

The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts, the softness in his eyes seeping into his voice when he says, “While I’m in favor of that idea, you don’t need to keep impressing me. You’re good enough as you are, believe me. Better than, actually.”

And there’s not much Mike could say in response to that, so he says nothing at all and pours everything he wants him to know into the kiss he gives him instead.

After dinner, they move to the sofa and put some Star Trek on to play in the background as they cuddle up together. It’s an episode they’ve already watched, but Mike is happy to listen with half an ear, the rest of his attention on the steady rhythm of Harvey’s breathing.

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?” he asks eventually, his eyes falling on the hand of the clock, moving forward relentlessly.

“No later than five, unfortunately. I’m setting my alarm for 4:15.” Harvey runs his hand up and down his arm, his lips brushing his temple. “You don’t have to get up with me. I’ll try not to wake you.”

“No, I want to. I can just go back to sleep afterwards.”

Chances of that are slim, he already knows as much, but Harvey nods. “Alright. Just don’t feel like you have to.”

He doesn’t, but there’s nothing in this world that could keep him from getting up when Harvey does. If it’s the last chance to see him for another two months, he’s damn well going to take it.

Knowing how early they’ll have to wake up, it’s Mike who suggests going to bed a little earlier than he usually would, despite the sense of dread coming over him at the thought. They get ready side by side, their kisses quickly turning into something deeper, more heated once they’ve crawled under the covers together. It’s impossible not to touch Harvey, the full awareness of how little time they have left hitting him with full force, and neither of them speaks much, instead letting the desire to be close and feel each other so intimately one last time guide them until they reach completion.

It’s probably for the best, Mike thinks when his eyes droop as he settles in, curled up against Harvey’s naked chest. He might not have been able to fall asleep otherwise. Even so it takes him a while, Harvey’s breathing having long evened out beside him when he finally drifts off.

The sound of the alarm is an unwelcome, jarring wake-up call that rips him from his sleep, his stomach sinking as soon as it registers. Harvey lets out a deep breath beside him, offering a small smile when he meets his eyes. They roll over until they’re facing each other, exchanging only a few short kisses before they have to get up, because no matter how much they want to linger, they can’t.

There’s a distinct sense of déjà-vu to it as they get ready, but despite how much Mike doesn’t want Harvey to leave again, it’s still different.

It’s just two more months before he comes back, and this time he has no doubt that he’ll return. Not just to New York, but to him. Neither of them has fallen out of love over the course of the past few months, on the contrary, and he knows it’s hardly been long enough to predict the future, but he also knows they are both committed to this, and that’s all he really needs to have faith.

It won’t be easy, Mike has no illusions about that. Both of them will be working on projects that could take them anywhere in the country, even the world. They won’t see each other for weeks, maybe months on end, always having their next goodbye ahead of them already. They’ll be busy, too busy to talk on the phone sometimes, and they’ll have to content themselves with the second or third best option time and time again.

It won’t be easy. In fact, it’s as complicated as it gets.

But they’ll figure it out. They’ll make it work. For all the hardship they’ll endure, all the times they _do_ get to see each other will be all the more incredible. If they’re anything like this weekend has been, then Mike can definitely live with that.

“All ready to go?” he asks when Harvey stands in the doorway, looking around the room one last time.

He nods.

“Alright, well. I guess this is goodbye. Again.”

Harvey smiles when he wraps his arms around him. “Let’s not turn it into a big thing. We’ll talk tonight after the show, or tomorrow at the latest.”

Mike nods as well. “Just call whenever you want. I’m here.”

He leans in to kiss him, cherishing the warm pressure of his lips before he pulls back with a deep breath, smiling despite the apprehension closing up his throat.

“Have a safe flight. Text me when you get there.”

“I will.”

“And break a leg on stage tonight.” He swallows, cupping his face briefly to run his thumb across his cheek. “I’ll miss you. But I’m so glad you came. This has been the best weekend.”

“I agree. It was worth it.” He kisses him again, lingering on his lips before he draws back. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you in two months, if I can’t squeeze in a trip to London before then.”

He watches Harvey grab his bag and smile at him one last time before he turns to go, the door falling shut behind him with a quiet click.

Mike stares after him, wrapping his arms around himself as he sighs.

It won’t be easy, no, but they’ll figure it out. It’s what they do, Harvey and him. They always figure it out somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘A superlative company achievement – most of us will be lucky if we see a better cast in our lifetimes' is actually [a review](https://twitter.com/SFP_London/status/1237399668411322368) for Uncle Vanya, but it seemed like a perfect description for the play too, so I stole it. ;)
> 
> I used [this website](https://www.mapdevelopers.com/distance_from_to.php) to calculate the distances between NYC and London. Not sure how accurate it is.


	16. Chapter 16

“Whoa. What in god’s name is that?”

“Calm down. I’m just cooking.”

“You’re _cooking_?”

Mike rolls his eyes as he supports his phone on the coffee machine, picking up the spoon again to stir the contents of his pan. “No need to sound so alarmed. I thought you wanted me to try my hand at more recipes.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just didn’t know cooking involved that much smoke.”

“It’s steam, dude.”

“It’s still a lot more than there should be,” Harvey points out, leaning in with a frown. “I can’t see what you’re doing. What are you making?”

“It’s stuffing for peppers, but the rice is what’s causing the steam. Well. Most of it. I don’t even know what I’m doing, to be honest. It was a mistake asking Rachel what I should cook for her.”

“It does sound interesting.”

“I know. I think it’s a great recipe, but I have no idea if I’ll get it right. Just… hold on one second, okay?”

He takes the pan off the stove and puts the rice on low heat, then picks up the phone and takes a good look at Harvey for the first time, a smile spreading on his lips. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he gives back, amused.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Now that I actually see _you_ and not just the steam.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Do let me know how it turned out. I’m intrigued.”

“I will. I had something similar at a Turkish restaurant once, so I know for a fact it’s good, but… I may need to adjust some things until I’ve perfected it.”

“If you manage that within the next six weeks, you can cook it for me as a welcome home dinner. If you’re so inclined. I’m just thinking out loud here.”

Mike chuckles. “Yeah, why not? It’s six weeks and two days, by the way, but who’s counting.”

“Not you, obviously.”

“It’s not like I can help it, okay? My brain just does that. I can also tell you the exact amount of time you’ve been gone since your last visit _and_ since you left the first time, down to the minute, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been keeping track on purpose.”

“You can just say that you miss me, you know. It’s okay.”

“Ugh. You insufferable man. Speaking of, though, I’ve been thinking- okay, wait a second. I need to save the rice.”

Harvey chuckles as he puts him down again and makes sure Rachel and he will have something to eat later, then takes his phone and shakes his head with a sigh.

“God, cooking is stressful. Okay, so, listen. I was thinking, my semester ends a little after you get back here, right? But classes are almost over, in, like, a month, and after that I just have to study for finals and get some assignments done. And as you know, I’m pretty quick when it comes to that.”

Harvey hums. “So you think you could make it work?”

“I do, yeah. I don’t know, probably not for longer than two or three days because of my group projects, but that’s better than nothing, right? And as long as I get to see you on stage once, I’m happy.”

“So am I. I’d love for you to see the play. And I do want to show you London.”

“And I want you to show it to me. I can’t promise anything, but I’m pretty sure it’ll work. I’ll talk to my professors about the deadlines and everything, and if it all checks out, I’m gonna start looking for flights.”

“Great. Let me know when you find out more.”

“For sure.” Mike returns his smile, then asks, “How was the show?”

“Good, yeah. Paul missed his cue, but I don’t think it was noticeable to the audience.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, well. It happens to the best of us.”

“You’re still judging him for it.”

“Obviously.”

Mike chuckles. “You must be tired,” he then says, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t get too worked up, it’ll only exhaust you more.”

“I won’t. But I am tired. I think I’ll go to bed in a minute. Just wanted to say hi before I did.”

“And you even got to judge my cooking skills on top of that. Hit the jackpot, huh?”

Harvey snorts. “You read my mind. No other way I’d want to spend my night.”

They both know that’s a big, fat lie, but it’s easier to pretend and keep it casual than admit how hard it is to be apart on some days.

“Well, go get some rest then. You need your beauty sleep.”

“Charming. You enjoy your night, alright? When’s Rachel coming over?”

“In about fifteen minutes. Ten,” he corrects after a glance at the clock.

“Alright, well, don’t let me keep you. Tell her I said hi, and I’ll see her in… what was it? Six weeks and two days?”

“Make that three. I want you all to myself on your first day back.”

“Hm. I think I’m okay with that. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” Mike smiles. “Love you. Sleep well!”

“Love you too, honey.”

Hanging up after a final wave, Mike sighs quietly before returning his attention to his dinner preparations. He has just put the peppers in the oven when the doorbell rings, and he goes to let Rachel in, greeting her with an apologetic smile when she enters.

“Hey. Dinner’s not ready yet, sorry, but at least it doesn’t look like a complete failure, so that’s something.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! We’ve got all night. And I’m sure it’ll be good.”

“You say that now,” Mike mutters, but smiles when she leans in to hug him.

“Thanks for inviting me over.” Her eyes move around the room. “Wow, Harvey’s place really does look amazing.”

“I told you it was incredible. Also, you basically have him to thank for the invitation. He practically reprimanded me when I mentioned that I’ve never asked anyone over. I just felt weird doing it, you know, because it’s still his space. But he was all, ‘I asked you to live there, so goddamn live there’. So, here we are.”

“You know I don’t mind going out or having you over at my place, but I have to say, this really is an upgrade. The view alone…”

“I know.”

She tilts her head. “Wanna give me a tour while we wait for the food?”

He nods, doing his best impression of a realtor as he shows her the living room and the kitchen with all the neat little features he’s only been discovering recently too, the bedroom, the bath, the office he’s never once seen Harvey use, and the balcony.

“And last but not least, the guest room,” he finishes, wrinkling his nose as he looks inside.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it looks nice and everything, doesn’t it? Just… too nice. It’s so impersonal. In the beginning, when I first started staying over, Harvey kept trying to get me to sleep in here. No, we did not share his bed back then,” he says when he catches her raised eyebrows. “We were trying to… do something. The right thing, I guess.”

“Well, that didn’t last long,” Rachel remarks.

“Long enough, if you ask me,” Mike mutters. “But yeah, I never slept in that room. Always took the sofa instead.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s too much like a hotel room, I think. Besides, I never felt like a guest here. It sounds so… official, and even when we weren’t acting on our feelings yet, it seemed wrong. I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“No, I think it’s very sweet, actually.”

She smiles, chuckling when he narrows his eyes at her, but the kitchen timer rings before he can say anything to defend himself. Quite literally saved by the bell.

He supposes he _is_ very mushy about Harvey. But who in their right mind could judge him for that?

“This is good,” Rachel says when they sit down to eat and she’s tried the stuffed peppers.

“You think so?” Mike takes a bite too, his eyes widening as he chews. “Wow, you’re right. It’s definitely edible.”

“You’re getting better and better. It’s all a matter of practice.”

“Like yoga?” he teases, and she nods.

“Exactly like that. Isn’t it great to see how far you’ve come already?”

“Yeah. That, and very, very, strange.” He shrugs. “I just feel like time is passing me by. Yesterday I auditioned for a role I was in no way equipped to play and somehow got anyway, and today the whole thing is already over, I’m officially dating my former co-star who is currently living on another continent, I’m doing yoga on a regular basis, and, oh, I’m also at goddamn Juilliard. Like… how did all that happen?”

“I know what you mean. So much has been going on for you this past year, it’s hard to keep track, isn’t it? To slow down and really notice that it’s all happening in this exact moment.”

“Right. Although your classes _have_ been helping in that regard. Mindfulness and all that,” he points out, and she grins.

“I’m glad to hear it. I remember how you dragged yourself to every class in the beginning. I knew you’d get there eventually, but it’s still good to see it.”

She pauses for another bite, the appreciative expression on her face making his chest swell with pride, before she gives him a contemplative look. “How do you feel about all that by now? I mean, I know how hard it was for you at first when the play ended, especially with Harvey leaving the next day. But you seem… more adjusted now.”

“I think I am, yeah.” Mike lifts his shoulders, shaking his head. “It’s still weird that it’s just over, you know? I still miss it like crazy, and I don’t know if that’s ever going to change. But I’ve started realizing that just because it’s over doesn’t mean it never happened, and it certainly doesn’t mean there’s nothing left of it.” He tips his temple, smiling. “I have all my memories, and Honey’s cardigan, the recording that I still haven’t watched but definitely will one day… I still have you and Donna, and I’m even having lunch with Louis next week.”

“And you have Harvey,” Rachel adds.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his smile growing. “I really do.”

It’s still so surreal that he gets to say that now, that it’s the truth. It still makes his stomach prickle in the best possible way.

Rachel grins. “I’m so glad you guys figured things out. You deserve it, both of you.”

“We still are,” Mike corrects. “Figuring it out, I mean. It’s sort of a learning by doing thing, you know? But I think we’re getting better, as weird as it sounds.”

“It doesn’t really. Relationships require work, don’t they? And one as complex as yours even more, with the distance and everything.”

“Tell me about it.” Mike sighs. “But like I said, we’re getting there. It’s… good. Really good, actually.”

“I bet it is.” Rachel smiles, then bites her lip and leans in. “So, since we’re on the subject of things changing and getting better already… there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Uh oh. Am I in trouble? Are you kicking me out of your class?”

“I am,” Rachel says. “With your agreement, that is. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but I figured you’d ask for it yourself at some point. Since you never did, I’m just going to tell you. I think it’s time you moved on to the advanced class. You’re ready.”

Mike sits back. “Wow. I mean… really?”

“Yes, Mike. Really.”

“That’s… very flattering. Like, _really_ flattering.” He pauses, giving her a doubtful look. “But… the advanced class? That sounds so…”

“Advanced?” Rachel teases, and he rolls his eyes when she chuckles.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes. And I stand by what I said. You’re ready.”

Mike glances at her, but when he finds nothing but assurance in her face, he nods slowly and straightens with a deep breath.

“Well, if you say so, I’m sure as hell not going to question it. Just… go easy on me, alright?”

He quite liked having all the poses perfected and not needing any assistance or correcting anymore. Challenging himself again will do him good, he knows that, but he remembers all too well how he struggled in the beginning. Going back to that is not very appealing.

“I won’t have to. You’ll be just fine.” She pats his hand. “Donna’s probably going to join you again. I think she’s had enough of the beginners’ group too.”

Mike sighs. “Well, it was nice to be top of the class while it lasted.”

At least he won’t be in it by himself. And looking at Rachel’s bright smile, he finds himself actually looking forward to it.

It really is funny how some things change, and how others stay exactly the same, a constant in his life that he can rely on amidst the evermoving tide. Like yoga with Donna and Rachel, or Harvey making fun of his cooking, or the knowledge that he’s always just a text away, even if there’s an ocean and five hours of time difference between them.

All things he didn’t have in his life a year ago, and now doesn’t have a shred of doubt that they’ll be staying with him for a good long while.

He really got lucky there, just that one time. But looking at everything he has now, all these invaluable things making his life so much richer, maybe once is enough.

Rachel helps him load the dishwasher after dinner despite his insistence to let him do it, then settles on the sofa while he sets up the Vertigo DVD – the reason he invited her over in the first place.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen this,” he tells her as he sits down.

“I haven’t seen a lot of things,” she points out.

“I know. We have so much work to do.”

Tonight proves to be a good start. After Vertigo they watch Bladerunner as well, and Rachel stays a while longer to discuss their mutual fondness of Harrison Ford among other things before she leaves.

Mike shows her out, and she hugs him goodbye, making him promise to tell him all about his lunch with Louis when he sees her for his first advanced class next week.

He doesn’t know which part he’s more nervous about.

He hasn’t seen Louis since shortly after ‘Virginia Woolf’ ended, and he’s excited and a little anxious at the same time, but mostly just curious to see how they’ll get along now that there’s nothing tying them together anymore.

Louis suggested a restaurant that’s near the theater, but secluded enough to shield them from possible Broadway fanatics spotting them. Mike is a lot more relaxed about those encounters now than he used to be, but he still prefers to have his lunch in peace without finding pictures of himself eating on broadwayworld.com afterwards.

He personally thinks it’s a little too upscale for his tastes when he enters the restaurant, but Louis, who is already sitting at a table in a corner, fits right in.

A smile tugs at Mike’s lips. He _has_ missed seeing him.

“Hey! I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long.”

Louis looks up from the menu, a grin spreading on his face when he lays eyes on him.

“Mike! Come here. You look well.”

Mike gasps for air when he’s pulled into a surprisingly firm hug, but beams when he draws back.

“Thanks. So do you. It’s great to see you, Louis. I know you’re not here for long, so I’m really glad this worked out.”

“Well, I might as well use the time efficiently while I’m around.”

He huffs out a laugh. “That’s one way of looking at it. How did your audition go?”

“I was incredible. They didn’t know what hit them. Whether or not they can recognize raw talent when it’s staring them in the face remains to be seen.”

“I’m sure they can.” Mike grins. “They’ll give you the part if they know what’s good for them.”

Louis nods. “Sit down, sit down,” he then says, waving his hand. “I took the liberty of ordering a starter plate already, but you should have a look at the menu before we get into it.”

“Right. First things first.”

Mike regards the selection, letting Louis advise him before he settles on the lamb gyro.

“Bon appétit,” Louis says once their starters arrive. “Well, talk to me. How are you? How’s Juilliard treating you? Tell me everything. Leave out no details.”

“I’m… good, yeah,” he begins. “Really good. Had a bit of a rough patch after ‘Virginia Woolf’ ended, but Juilliard is keeping me sufficiently distracted now, and things are really looking up.”

“I bet. What classes are you taking? Tell me about your professors. Most of them must have been there in my time already.”

Mike tells him. About his teachers, his classes, his fellow students, and Louis absorbs it all, his follow-up questions endless. He takes special interest in his enemy-turned-hesitant-friend Katrina, and Mike pictures them working together briefly, which would undoubtedly either end in disaster or create the greatest artwork of all time.

It would bear finding out, at any rate.

Time flies as they catch up, proving Mike’s worries to be entirely unnecessary – they may not work together anymore, but they still have things in common, and enough memories to build a foundation for new ones on. Louis may be strange in many ways, but it does pay off to look past that, and if their time together has taught him anything, it’s how to do that.

Mike might even go as far as to call them friends. He thinks he’d rather like that.

Despite the engaging flow of their conversation, he gets distracted when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He’d usually wait until later to check it, but he’s pretty sure that the text is from Harvey, and so he excuses himself and has a quick look.

Louis doesn’t seem to mind, instead narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

“Is that him?”

Mike glances up from the screen as he puts the phone away again.

“Him?”

He just gives him a look. “Harvey. You two are still seeing each other, aren’t you?”

Mike blinks at him. “Well, technically we only just started seeing each other. Officially, at least. But yeah, that’s… happening. And it’s- good. It’s great.” He bites his lip to hold back his smile, barely succeeding. “We’re taking it one day at a time, but we’re both committed to making it work.”

“Well, that’s good news if I ever heard any. I’m glad Harvey got his head out of his ass and finally accepted what was right in front of him.”

Mike snorts. “I’ll be sure to tell him that. He says hi, by the way.”

Louis nods. “I should text him soon. He’s coming back in a month, isn’t he? I can probably squeeze him into my schedule for lunch as well.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

“Of course. It’s important to cultivate one’s contacts. Sheila says hello too, since we’re on the subject already. She’s sorry she couldn’t make it today, but you know how it is. Work comes first.”

“Totally. Tell her I said hi too, and I’m sure I’ll see her some other time.” He lifts an eyebrow. “You two are still an item, then?”

“An item?” Louis huffs. “Please, Mike. I’m considering the best time to propose to her.”

“You _are_?”

“Yes, of course. Why do you ask? You think it’s too soon, don’t you? That I’m rushing into this?”

“I mean… it is soon, but not really, and even if I did, it’s none of my business, is it? I’m just surprised, that’s all. Very happy to hear it though. I do hope I’ll get invited to the wedding.”

Louis waves his hand. “First she has to say yes. And before that I need to decide when to ask her. I thought about our one-year anniversary, but that’s coming up soon and we’ll both be working that day, so maybe not. Maybe her birthday, though that isn’t for another ten months.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Do let me know how it went when you did it,” Mike adds, grinning. “This is so great. We’re gonna have a ‘Virginia Woolf’ wedding.”

They both pause to consider that.

“Well. Maybe not,” he amends.

“No, definitely not,” Louis agrees.

“A reunion then.”

“Much better.”

Mike regards him, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You really wanna marry her, huh? I mean, we all knew you two were serious, but that’s… very serious.”

“I am very serious about Sheila,” Louis tells him.

“I’ll say. Things are going well for you then? Even though… she’s here in the city, right? And you’re… not, unless you’re stopping by for an audition. But that’s working out for you?”

He shrugs. “It has to, doesn’t it? It’s not that we don’t have our bad days. And would I rather be annoyed by her because we’re around each other all the time than miss her because she’s away? Sure. But this is what we have, and we’re working with it.”

Mike hums, playing with his napkin.

“Does it bother you? Knowing that it’s always going to be like this?”

“I want to say no, but truthfully it does, sometimes. I mean, I’ve got plans, right? Plans for a future, with her, and they’re going to be hard to realize if we’re both constantly in different places, working on projects that take up most of our time and attention. But what can we do, other than wait and see what happens while doing the best we can?”

He lifts his shoulders.

“Is it ideal? Of course not. Maybe we’ll have to make some changes down the line. Compromise. Sheila always talks about teaching. She could focus on offering classes rather than acting herself. I wouldn’t mind staying home for a while either if we had children. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find a way that satisfies both of us. Maybe we won’t and we’ll both have to make some sacrifices. But she’s… the most important thing, Mike. Above everything else I’ve wanted in my life, that I care about, there’s her. If I have to give something up to keep her in my life, then I’ll do it. Because she’s worth it. Everything.”

“That’s… beautiful, Louis.”

“No, Mike. It’s love.”

Mike chuckles, and Louis smiles, tilting his chin upwards.

“I’m sure you’ve found the same thing to be true in your relationship with Harvey.”

“Yeah.” He lets out a deep breath. “I… wonder sometimes. If it’s ever going to be enough, with this life we lead. Because I want to be with him so much, you know? And we’ll never be able to spend as much time together as we want to. But I think you’re right. It’s worth all the sacrifices we have to make to be with each other at all. And having him half the time is better than none of the time.”

“My thoughts precisely.”

“And… it helps when the other person is as committed to it as you are, doesn’t it? Knowing you’re both willing to work and pull together.”

“It’s the foundation of any lasting relationship. But I really don’t think you need to worry about that when it comes to Harvey. You don’t know what he was like before you. I didn’t see much of him between Juilliard and our play, but I still know.” Louis shrugs. “He was different. Had all these rules and boundaries about when to let himself get involved. You… breezed past all of them, and he let you. That in itself tells me everything I need to know about where you two are headed.”

Mike smiles, dropping his eyes to his plate.

“You’re right. And I’m not worried. He’s made it very clear what this means to him and where his priorities lie.” He nudges him beneath the table. “The same goes for you and Sheila though. You know, if you’re still thinking about how to ask her to marry you, just tell her what you told me and you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I already assembled a detailed list of everything I love about her and all the ways she makes me feel. If you want to hear it, I can-“

“No need for that,” Mike cuts in, the last time he got too much insight into their relationship still a big enough source of distress for him as it is. “Some things should be private, don’t you think?”

“Suit yourself. But when you want to propose to Harvey and find yourself at a loss, remember that I offered and you refused.”

“When I-“ Mike breaks off, staring at him. “Louis, I’m not gonna…”

The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind until now.

He never thought much about whether he wants to get married. It was always too abstract a question, something that may or may not be relevant in the far future, but never so soon that it bore thinking about in more detail.

But maybe now it does. Not for anytime soon, of course. But if they do figure this out and things go well for them, in the long run… maybe it’s worth considering.

It’s ridiculous to get caught up in the matter now, of course. He doesn’t even know if Harvey would want to get married.

Maybe he should find out, though.

Mike is surprised to find that he likes the idea. Really, really likes it, actually. Wearing Harvey’s ring on his finger for all the world to see. Calling him his fiancé, his _husband_. Committing to him for the rest of his life, and knowing that Harvey wants to do the same in return.

It’s… good. Even more than that, it’s exhilarating.

He didn’t think the answer to the question of wanting to get married would be such a resounding yes, but he instinctively understands that it’s not marriage itself that’s appealing to him. Harvey is the deciding factor in that equation. No matter how hypothetical these musings are for the moment, how far in the future the possibility of a wedding lies, Mike just knows that if he’s ever getting married, it’s going to be to Harvey or no one at all.

Louis lifts an eyebrow, pulling him out of his daydreams when he inquires idly, “Aren’t you?”

Mike’s cheeks burn.

“It’s too soon for that,” he mutters, but he can tell from the look Louis gives him that he sees right through him.

“Enough about that now,” he resolutely changes the subject, clearing his throat. “Tell me about your new play. I wanna hear everything.”

*

“Guess what I just bought.”

Harvey’s lips curve upwards. “If you don’t say your tickets to London, I’m gonna be sorely disappointed.”

“Well, good thing that’s exactly what I was going to say then.”

“That’s amazing news, Mike. When are you coming?”

“Friday before the last weekend of January. I should be there in time for the evening show, then I’m staying two nights, and on Sunday I’m flying back home because I have to be at school Monday morning. I know it’s not ideal because you’ll be on stage a lot of the time, but it’s the best I could do.”

“It’s better than nothing. As long as you get to see the play and we have a few hours together, I’m happy. And every minute I’m not spending on stage is reserved for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Mike grins. “We’ll make good use of the time. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither. So I’ll see you in… three weeks? Is that right?”

He nods.

“That’s nothing.”

“Isn’t it? And two weeks after that, you’re already coming back. Which is… so weird. I mean, it has felt like forever, but also…”

“How did it get so late so soon?” Harvey offers, a knowing smile on his lips. “Yeah. I keep asking myself the same question.”

“It’s just so wild. A year ago, we’d only just met. Can you believe that?”

“Almost exactly one year,” Harvey realizes. “Crazy how much happened in that time.”

“Totally. Now I’m wondering where we’ll be a year from now.”

“Well, hopefully in the same country, for a start.”

“You read my mind,” Mike says dryly. “And in three weeks, we will even be in the same city. The sheer luxury…”

“I can hardly believe it. To think that other people feel like that all the time.” Harvey’s smile grows as he regards him. “Three weeks, huh?”

“It’ll fly,” Mike promises.

And it does. Before he knows it, he finds himself standing in line at the airport, waiting to board the plane that is going to take him out of the country and, more importantly, to Harvey. With how busy he was getting all his assignments done in time, there was hardly any opportunity to get impatient, and now he’s just a few hours away from seeing him up close again.

Well, he’ll see him on stage first, since there won’t be any time to meet up before the show, but he’s looking forward to that too. And after that, he’ll have him all to himself until his next show on Saturday.

Mike has been on a plane before, once, when his Grammy took him on a short trip to San Francisco that they spent over a year saving up for. He’s not quite as excited about flying this time, more about what’ll come afterwards, but still finds himself enjoying the experience despite the lacking leg space and mediocre food. He doesn’t try to sleep, since he’ll probably have trouble going to bed at an appropriate local time anyway, instead spending the eight hours watching some of the available movies. Annoyingly, they get interrupted by announcements from the crew every few minutes, but he supposes that’s part of the package too.

He arrives at Heathrow with only a short delay, which still leaves him enough time to get to the theater without having to worry that he’ll miss the beginning. There’s a subway running from the airport to West End in under an hour – or rather a tube, he mentally corrects himself – and he only freshens up in the restroom and changes into the plain button-down he didn’t want to crumble on the plane before he’s on his way.

Piccadilly Circus is the first thing he actually sees of London, which makes for a pretty cool first impression. He snaps a selfie of himself for his Instagram and, upon checking the time and finding that he’s still early, heads into the Cinnabon he spots nearby and gets a Center of the Roll to go because, truthfully, the food on the plane really wasn’t that great.

It’s already getting dark as he heads down the street to the theater, but the city looks good with all the lights illuminating his surroundings – it reminds him of home a bit, only that there’s something distinctly different about it, something he can only describe as an English quality. He wonders if Harvey thinks about New York when he walks here, if he misses it. If he prefers this small version over Times Square’s excessive panels and flickering screens.

He can’t wait to find out, to get to know the city through his eyes when he shows him around tomorrow, to absorb it all in daylight. But even more than that he’s looking forward to seeing him on stage.

He dumps the Cinnabon cup in the nearest trash can when he reaches the theater, giddy with excitement when he sees Harvey’s face on the poster outside. He still thinks it’s an exceptionally favorable shot of him, but then again he’s rarely seen a picture in which he didn’t look like a supermodel.

The theater is beautiful, its architecture entirely different from the one they performed ‘Virginia Woolf’ in, but equally appealing. Harvey got him a front row ticket, and Mike can barely sit still as he waits for the show to start.

The room is filling rapidly, hardly any seats left empty when he cranes his head to look around. The growing anticipation is the sweetest kind of torture before it finally gets dark and the audience quiets down.

And then there’s Harvey. Standing straight and still at the center of the stage, his eyes fixed on a point in the darkness before the music sets in and he starts moving, kicking off the play with an energy that is almost incredible, considering the demure nature of his role.

It’s quite the entrance, seeing him in the flesh for the first time in weeks on stage and in character, but Mike barely has time to marvel at the sight before he gets drawn into the unfolding story, capturing his full attention.

He’s seeing Harvey and he isn’t as he watches the progression of John Halder’s life and his descent into moral corruption, and he doesn’t know if that makes the whole experience even more intense than it already is, but he’s utterly captivated for the following two hours, watching the proceedings breathlessly to the very last scene.

The room is silent when it’s over, the audience collectively gathering their composure before they erupt into applause. Mike may or may not be the first one on his feet, but it doesn’t matter, because virtually everyone joins him within seconds.

His eyes are glued to Harvey when he returns to the stage to take a modest bow, like he didn’t just carry the whole play on his back. It was a stellar cast, all of them delivering a strong performance, but Mike doesn’t think he’s biased in thinking that he really stood out among them. No wonder the director brought him here all the way from the States for this play. He was perfect for the part.

The applause doesn’t fade for endless minutes, and Mike has to actively restrain himself from leaning over to the people next to him and boasting about that being his boyfriend up there. It helps that he still can’t stop staring at the stage and drinking in the sight of him, out of character now, just being Harvey.

While everyone else looks ahead, taking in the audience, Harvey’s gaze soon finds Mike in the front row. The grin spreading on his face when their eyes meet is uncontrollable, and not crossing the distance between them suddenly seems near impossible.

Mike does stay in place until the applause ends, because that’s the least the cast deserves after a performance like that, and then brushes past the people moving to the exit to get backstage like Harvey told him to.

He must have told the staff to let him through, since no one tries to stop him. There’s a bunch of people, but his eyes fixate on Harvey instantly, even with his back to him as he talks to Ava.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Harvey turns around, his face lighting up when he lays eyes on him. “Mike.”

He grins. “In the flesh.”

While all he wants to do is walk up to him and fling himself into his arms, he finds himself faltering a little, realizing only now that they never talked about how they’d act in front of other people. They’re together, yes, but how openly together they’d behave never came up somehow.

Harvey doesn’t seem to share his hesitancy. Instead of responding, he crosses the room to pull him into a tight hug, his arms closing around him feeling so much like home that every tension Mike held in his body just melts away.

“It is _so_ good to see you,” Harvey tells him, the warmth and sincerity in his voice making him smile, and it still lingers on his lips when Harvey draws back just enough to cup his face and kiss him square on the mouth.

A little startled, but more than happy to follow his lead, Mike returns the kiss, the sheer happiness welling up in him at the touch rendering him oblivious to the rest of the room until they break apart.

“Likewise,” he gets out, licking his lips. “Now that’s what I call a warm welcome.”

He’s aware that they’re pretty much the center of attention, any chatter dying down as virtually everyone turns to them, but it’s hard to focus on anyone else when Harvey’s hands are still on him, holding him close.

He beams at him. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Oh, yeah. I had tomato juice on the plane. It was awesome.”

“Of course.”

Mike nudges him. “Hey, that was the most incredible performance. I can’t even tell you how good it was, I’m still shaken. You were so great in that role. Although everyone did an amazing job, really.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.”

“I _loved_ it. I mean, it was terrible, obviously, but so damn good.”

The mention of the rest of the cast reminds them that they’re not on their own, and Harvey smiles as he takes his hand before turning around, addressing the room.

“Alright, everyone, this is Mike. He’s my boyfriend.”

It can’t have come as a shock after the way he just greeted him, but the statement is still met with silence before Stephen breaks the almost comical quiet to say, “No way.”

“This is who you’ve been texting all this time?” Jack clarifies, his eyebrows rising as he stares at Mike, who just grins.

“Are you shocked about the fact that he’s a man, or that I’m not actually a slut?”

“The latter, obviously,” Samantha remarks, her appraising gaze moving between them.

Harvey rolls his eyes. “They all thought I was having a string of affairs,” he explains, turning to Mike. “No matter what I told them, they always assumed I was sleeping my way through town. Apparently I have a ‘reputation’, as they put it.”

“Nah, I’m afraid that was just me. Sorry to disappoint.” Mike waves his free hand. “Hi, everyone. Amazing work out there, by the way. Consider me blown away.”

No one seems to care about what he thought of the play, still ogling them with varying levels of interest.

“So the guy you’ve been seeing is your former co-star,” Samantha says, her eyes narrowed. “No wonder you’ve kept quiet about it.”

“Well, we didn’t really start dating until after the play,” Mike points out. “Not quite as scandalous.”

“Oh, it’s good enough, alright,” she mutters, returning his grin with a sly smile that would have worried him if Harvey hadn’t prepared him for the particular way she has about her.

Shaking her head, Zoe steps forward and extends her hand to him.

“Well, if no one else is gonna say it, welcome to London, Mike. I’m really glad you liked the show. I’m afraid none of us knew about you before, but since you’re here already, I’m sure we’d all love to hear more about you.”

“You mean you’d love to get more stories about me out of him,” Harvey corrects.

“Clearly,” Samantha states at the same time as Zoe says, “Of course not. We just wanna get to know your partner better, now that we know you have one.”

She gives him a pointed look that Harvey ignores before turning back to Mike, asking, “How about a drink, if you don’t have any other plans? There’s this lovely bar in the area we were planning on going to after the show. Do come along if you like!”

Mike glances at him. “Do you want to?”

Harvey puts a hand on his back. “I’ll leave it to you. If you want to go home, we’ll go home. If you wanna have a drink first, let’s have one.”

“Well, if you’re not too tired, let’s join them for a while. I’m running on Eastern Standard Time anyway, so I doubt I’d be able to sleep anytime soon.”

“Sleep isn’t what I had in mind when I talked about taking you home,” Harvey murmurs into his ear, though Mike is pretty sure everyone can hear him.

“Well, like I said. I’m not sleeping for a while yet. Plenty of time for all sorts of things.”

Especially for _that_. But as much as he wants to have Harvey all to himself, he’d also love to hang out with the cast while he’s here, get to know the people that he’s spent so much time with these past few months.

Harvey just nods. “Let’s join them, then.”

Having caused enough of a hold-up, Mike hangs back to let everyone get changed and go through their usual after-show routine. Harvey leads him to his dressing room more than he asks him to come along, crowding him against the wall to steal a few handsy kisses as soon as the door is shut.

Joining the others outside with a slight delay that earns them some suggestive looks, they head to the bar together, a charming little place that seems to be familiar with the group, offering a secluded corner for them to use as soon as they step inside.

“Alright,” Samantha says once they’ve settled in, crossing her legs and fixing him with a look. “Tell us.”

“What do you wanna know?” Mike asks, amused. “Who I am? How we met? What Harvey’s like in bed?”

He laughs when she makes a face at the last part. “More along the lines of what’s behind his insufferable ego that made you decide to put up with that.”

“Oh, give the man a moment, will you?” Ava asks, shaking her head. “Vultures, the lot of you.”

“Yeah, give him a moment, Samantha,” Harvey agrees, lifting an eyebrow. “Maybe it’ll remind you of all the times you willingly sought out my company when you asked me to join you at the gym.”

“That’s because you can’t talk while you’re sweating it out.”

“These two. They never stop,” Zoe mutters, then turns to Mike. “Ignore them. I, for one, would love to hear how you guys met. It was the play, wasn’t it? Or did you know each other before?”

“We didn’t. Technically, we met at the audition. It was a bit… unconventional, but it did show us that we got along like a house on fire from the get-go.”

“But you didn’t start seeing each other until after the play?” Alex clarifies.

“Yeah. Cause, you know what’s behind that insufferable ego? A surprisingly strict moral code.”

“Surprisingly?” Harvey asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah. All those rules and stuff you’ve got going on, it doesn’t really fit the bad boy image you’re trying to project to the general public.”

Zoe grins. “Aw, would you look at that. Harvey’s a softie.”

“I am most definitely not.”

“He is, actually,” Mike remarks, a chuckle escaping him at the look Harvey throws him.

“Alright, don’t tell them _everything_.”

“Don’t worry.” He takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

“I should hope so. Because if we’re sharing private details already, I have a few that could be of interest as well.”

“Oh, but they don’t care about me. They only wanna hear embarrassing stories about _you_.”

“We do, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care about you,” Stephen says. “You seem like a nice guy, which, no offense, isn’t what I pictured when I imagined Harvey’s partner.”

“Been spending a lot of time doing that, huh?” Harvey inquires idly, smirking when Stephen rolls his eyes.

Mike lifts his shoulders. “Well, what can I say. I’m awesome.”

“Now that does sound like something I imagined Harvey’s partner saying,” Stephen mutters.

Mike grins, because he’s enjoying the banter, but he enjoys being referred to as Harvey’s partner even more. It does have such a nice ring to it.

“How do you like London so far, Mike?” Ava wants to know.

“I haven’t seen much of it yet, to be honest, but it seems like a great place so far. I get why Harvey left me to come here now.”

“Please,” Harvey scoffs. “It _is_ a great place, but it doesn’t compare to you.”

“See what I mean?” Mike looks around the table, shaking his head. “Total softie.”

He leans in when Harvey narrows his eyes, placing a swift kiss on his lips that he gladly prolongs when he doesn’t let him pull back.

“How long are you staying, then?”

“Just until Sunday, unfortunately. Pretty short first trip abroad, but it was all I could squeeze in with the semester drawing to a close.”

“Oh, you’ve never been out of the country?”

“No, afraid not. We didn’t have much money growing up. The rare domestic travel was as far as I got.”

Before anyone can dig deeper, Alex narrows his eyes and leans in. “Wait, wait, so you’re back at school now?”

“Well, not back. I didn’t go to Juilliard before, but I was lucky enough to get the chance to go now. I’m about to finish my first semester.”

“Oh, I’m almost jealous.” Zoe sighs. “Juilliard was such an amazing time. Some of the best years of my life.”

Mike smiles. “Yeah, I’m experiencing the same thing right now. Though it really started before that. When we worked on ‘Virginia Woolf’, actually. Since then, it’s just been… out of this world.”

It had its ups and downs, sure, but looking back on the past year, Mike’s life has never been as fulfilled as it is now, not even close. He has never felt so alive, and that’s worth all the hardship that comes with it.

He feels Harvey’s gaze on him like a physical weight, and he squeezes his hand, the fact that he never let go only making him smile more. It could be a touch of possessiveness, or the simple need to be close after how long they’ve spent apart, but he finds that he doesn’t really care.

When he tears his eyes from Harvey, he finds the rest of the group openly staring at them, their unspoken questions clear as day on their faces. Curious bunch, the lot of them.

He huffs out a laugh, holding up his free hand.

“Listen, I know you all want me to spill the beans, but the truth is that there really aren’t that many embarrassing stories I could tell you about Harvey. He’s ridiculously suave and skillful.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“It was only partially a compliment, but you’re welcome.”

He turns back to the others.

“Alright, enough about Harvey and our relationship now. Since we’re here already, let’s hear more about you guys. How did you all come to this project?”

He doesn’t exactly mind talking about the two of them, but he tagged along to experience more of Harvey’s life here firsthand, and that’s what he intends to do.

The group is entertaining company, that much is clear from the start. He doesn’t get bored for a second as he listens to them, bantering back and forth in ways that he sometimes can’t quite decide whether it’s well-meaning or not, but it does keep him on his toes, especially when Harvey lets go of him eventually only to put his hand on his thigh, running it up and down slowly.

From what he’s gathering, he doubts they’ll be staying in touch once the play is over, but that’s how these things go. For the duration of the play’s run, they came together to create something incredible and form a bond that, while it may not be designed to last, at least served its purpose.

It’s perfectly natural, but he still finds himself grateful that his first experience of a play was a different one.

When their second drinks are nearly finished and Mike has nudged Harvey under the table twice already because his hand kept wandering, Stephen looks around.

“How about another round? I’m buying.”

Harvey catches his eyes, squeezing his thigh when he nods imperceptibly.

“Actually, I think it’s time Mike and I left you to it.”

“Yeah. Long flight, you know how it is. Really tiring. And I’m sure Harvey isn’t faring much better.”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely. I’m exhausted.”

Samantha rolls her eyes despite the quirk of her lips. “Jesus, just go home and do whatever you’re gonna do.”

“Oh, we will.”

Mike rises from his seat, slipping into his coat.

“Alright, well, it’s been great meeting you all. Again, amazing work on the play. I’m really glad I got to see it.”

“Thanks, Mike. It was great meeting you too.”

Alex nods. “Enjoy the rest of your time here. Don’t make Harvey late for the show tomorrow!”

Mike lets out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t dare, even if he’d let me. Have a great night, everyone!”

Outside, Harvey holds out his hand in the crispy night air.

Mike fully intends to follow Alex’ advice and enjoy the rest of his trip, and as he looks at the soft smile on his lips, remembering all the time they still have ahead of them before he leaves, he thinks that the best part is only just beginning.

“They were nice,” he remarks as they walk.

“For the most part. It’s a good thing Paul didn’t talk much. He has a tendency to put his foot in his mouth and piss me off.”

Mike chuckles. “Even if he had, there isn’t anything that could ruin this night for me. It’s been amazing. Already worth the trip here.”

“Oh? And is there anything that could still improve it, perhaps?”

Meeting Harvey’s eyes, he grins and tilts his head. “I can think of a thing or two, yeah.”

“Wanna tell me what it is or do I have to guess?”

“I’m sure you could, but why don’t I show you instead?”

He stops short, stepping in until they’re chest to chest before he kisses him, lingering despite the people surrounding them.

He only pulls back when he feels Harvey smiling against his lips.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist that you show me the rest too.”

Mike laughs, reaching for his hand again.

“Take me home then, Mr. Specter. We may have all night, but I want to make good use of it.”

*

Mike’s lips stretch into a smile when Harvey puts a hand on his back and starts tracing his spine, the touch of his fingers featherlight. He heard the alarm, but didn’t open his eyes just yet, and now he’s glad he didn’t. This is a much better way of being woken up.

He huffs when Harvey’s hands wander, brushing the bare skin of his ass in a way that suggests he’s well aware Mike’s not sleeping anymore.

“Grabby,” he mumbles.

“So you are awake.”

“Barely. Could be motivated with the right incentive, though.”

Humming, Harvey resumes the path of his hands, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions now. Mike enjoys his touches for a while before he rolls onto his back, blinking his eyes open.

“Hmm. This is nice. I missed waking up with you.”

“So did I.”

Harvey leans in to steal a gentle kiss, his hand grazing his cock as he moves towards his groin. He grins when Mike’s lips part in a quiet gasp, his arousal having long started to show.

“But as nice as it is, I’m afraid we don’t have much time if we want to get your sightseeing program done before my show this afternoon.”

They set the alarm early specifically for that reason, so Harvey can show him around as much as possible before he needs to leave. He has two shows today, but Mike has planned everything he wants to see with him around them.

Thankfully, his schedule does allow for a little extra time in bed before they have to go.

“That’s okay,” Mike says, moving to settle on his hips. “This won’t take long.”

He’s right, though that takes nothing away from it.

Once they’re out of the shower, dressed, and ready to go, they grab some breakfast on the way – Harvey shows him his coffee shop of choice, which is equally as expensive as Bluestone Lane and admittedly almost as good – and head to their first stop.

It’s still early when they get to Big Ben, not even eight, so it’s much less crowded there than Mike expected. It gives them a semblance of privacy as they scout the area, walking hand in hand whenever it pleases them. Not that anything could have stopped Mike from doing that, but it’s still nice not to worry about being approached at any moment.

Buckingham Palace and Trafalgar Square are next, both making for excellent locations to snap a few pictures of himself and the two of them together, followed by a visit to the National Gallery that Mike gladly would have prolonged if they’d had more time.

But the guided tour Harvey is giving him is much more interesting than the art anyway, pointing out streets he walks down frequently as he leads him through the city, mentioning cafés and restaurant he’s tried, things that happened to him in certain places, opening windows into the life he’s had here without him, making him part of it to his best ability.

Mike can see it, the blanks he never quite managed to fill in when Harvey told him about his days taking shape before his eyes. It’s something else entirely to be there himself, to absorb the atmosphere as he walks down the same streets that have been his home since he left New York, Harvey right next to him, their hands always finding their way back to each other eventually.

They’ve never done anything like this before; going somewhere new, exploring. Their world was always confined to New York, Harvey’s apartment, the theater. It’s amazing to see something new, and Mike is more than happy to let himself be shown around, but there’s a part of him that still wishes they’d gotten to discover all this together. They should take a trip sometime when they both have a few days off, the two of them together, somewhere they’ve never been before. That would be nice.

Though this is nice too. Too nice to last, but he knew that going in.

“I’ll come inside with you,” Harvey says after they’ve visited Tower Bridge and wait in line for the Tower of London, “but the place is huge. I’ll probably have to go before you even get to see half of it.”

“That’s fine,” Mike assures him. “Just leave when you have to. I can entertain myself.”

He’s had enough practice these past few weeks, after all. Of course, he still prefers to have Harvey by his side – he doesn’t just want to see London, he wants to see _his_ London, the one he discovered during his time here, and that’s hardly possible without him.

But he knew their time would be limited from the start, and so there’s nothing to do but make the most of it. When Harvey eventually leaves him with a lingering kiss and the promise to hurry, they’ve only seen a fraction of the Tower, but Mike doesn’t really feel like going through the rest on his own.

He goes on to the British Library instead, promptly spending a little longer there than planned when he loses himself in the sheer amount of books he wants to dive into. He’ll have to come back one day, when he has more time.

As it is, he has to hurry to make it to the restaurant they’re supposed to meet at before Harvey. It won’t do to waste any of the precious time they have.

The place he chose is the Italian restaurant he keeps telling him about. It looks nice, very modern and upscale. Mike can picture Harvey here immediately. He skims the menu, placing their order and choosing something to drink for both of them – Harvey has another show tonight, so the wine will have to wait until afterwards.

He looks up when someone puts a hand on his shoulder, grinning when he sees Harvey’s apologetic smile.

“Sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Don’t worry, this is perfect timing. How was it?”

“Everything went well. The audience was great.”

He sits down opposite him, letting out a deep breath as his shoulders slump. Mike is happy to give him a moment to really arrive.

“Did you order already?” he asks when he’s taken a sip of the virgin cocktail he got for him.

Mike nods. “Yours too. What you said you wanted.”

“Perfect.”

“So how much time do we have to eat?”

Harvey checks his phone. “An hour and… twelve minutes.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. This isn’t very romantic.”

“Shut up. It is. You’re rushing all over the city twice in one day just to be with me for as long as possible. That’s very romantic.”

Harvey’s forehead is still creased, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “If you say so.”

“I sure do. I mean, all this is basically extra time we weren’t even supposed to have, so I’m not complaining.”

Harvey smiles when he squeezes his hand. “You’re right.”

“Yeah, believe it or not, that happens sometimes.”

“So, what did you get up to in the meantime? Did you see the rest of the Tower?”

Mike shakes his head and tells him all about the library, only realizing how long he’s been geeking out about it when the waiter arrives with their food.

“And they had this section I didn’t even get to, but I could probably spend a whole day there, and you _know_ how fast I read, and… I’ve been talking about this for fifteen minutes. Stop me anytime.”

“Do continue. I love seeing you get all nerdy.”

“Shut up,” Mike mutters, hiding his smile behind his glass until the waiter leaves them alone. “We all know who the real nerd at this table is.”

“Or maybe I just recognized that part of myself in you, and that’s why I like you so much.”

“Aw, you like me?” Mike clutches his chest, grinning. “That’s so cute, Harvey. What is this, middle school?”

“I definitely didn’t do what we did last night and this morning in middle school,” Harvey remarks.

“You didn’t? I would have thought you were chasing all the girls and boys by the tender age of fourteen. At the latest.”

“The only thing I chased at that age was the ball on the baseball field. I didn’t discover girls for myself until high school. Boys, I was interested in too, but didn’t pursue until college.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

Mike tries the lemon pasta, intending to follow up, but stops short when the taste unfolds on his tongue.

“Okay, wow. This is amazing.”

“Told you.”

“Definitely much better than what I tried at home. What _is_ this sauce?”

“No idea, but it definitely works.”

“Oh, it sure does.” He takes another bite, then waves his fork towards him. “Okay, now tell me more about middle school Harvey.”

He can’t believe they never talked about this before. Whenever their adolescence comes up, it’s usually about their family or lack thereof, not what they were actually doing. Mike doesn’t like to reflect on those years all that much, knowing exactly what aspects of them led him down the path that eventually cost him his scholarship, but finds Harvey’s memories of that time all the more fascinating; what dreams he had, what interested him, what going to school was like for him.

He would have gladly needled him about it all night, but an hour really isn’t all that long. Before he knows it, Harvey glances at his phone with a sigh.

“I have to go. We’ll pick up where we left off later, alright?”

“Sure. Enjoy the show, break a leg, tell everyone I said hi… again.”

“Will do. You stay a while longer if you like. Have some dessert. I’ll pay on my way out, it’s on me.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Thanks. So, nine thirty at that address you gave me?”

After Mike took it upon himself to plan the day, Harvey insisted on taking care of the night, refusing to tell Mike what’s in store for him. He could probably find out by googling the address, but he kind of likes the mystery around the whole thing. Spoiling the surprise is the last thing he wants.

Harvey nods.

“I’ll meet you there. I’m gonna do my best to be on time, because- well, you’ll see.”

Mike narrows his eyes. “I still wanna know what we’re doing.”

“You will. At nine thirty.”

He slips into his jacket, dropping a quick kiss on the top of Mike’s head on his way out.

Never one to turn down dessert, especially when it’s free, Mike treats himself to a cannoli that would only have been better if Harvey had been there to share it. At least there’s more for him that way.

He still has some time to kill until Harvey is done with his performance, so he decides to walk to the address he gave him, taking a good look around. About fifty minutes later, he finds himself near the Tower again, enjoying the view of the city from the Thames until Harvey approaches him, his cheeks as flushed as Mike’s feel.

“Hey. Have you been waiting long?” he asks, rubbing his arms through his coat. “You must be cold.”

“Tiny little bit,” Mike admits. “It’s fine. Unless whatever you have planned is outside, in which case I’ll probably freeze to death, but I’ll totally do it for you.”

“It’s not really outside. Only part of it.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Come on,” Harvey says, holding out his hand with a smirk. “I’ll show you.”

He leads them through the streets until they stop at a tall building.

Mike tilts his head back. “This is the Walkie Talkie, isn’t it? We could have just met here.”

“But then you would have had time to look up where you are.”

Mike rolls his eyes despite his smile. “So what’s… Sky Garden?” he asks, squinting at the sign as they wait to be let in.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin.” The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts. “You’ll see.”

He’s right, but when they step out of the elevator, the big hall awaiting them is nothing like Mike imagined.

“Whoa. This is _amazing._ ” He turns around, his eyebrows rising as he takes in the construction. “How far up does this go?”

“Take a look,” Harvey suggests, leading him up the stairs by the hand.

The hall itself is beautiful, the wide, open space filled with green and the occasional dab of color everywhere he looks, but nothing beats the view from the windows, going from the floor to the ceiling, offering a breathtaking perspective of London by night.

Mike only takes his eyes off the sight when Harvey steps right behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Dude, it’s incredible. I love it.”

“Makes fun of me for saying I like him, calls me dude the same night,” Harvey mutters, shaking his head when Mike elbows him. “I thought you’d appreciate the view,” he then adds, softly. “We don’t have much time, sadly, but I still wanted to take you here. This is one of the first places I went to when I came to the city. It was beautiful, but all I could think of was coming up here and enjoying it with you.”

“Hmm. I love when you go all sappy on me.”

Harvey huffs.

“If you’ve warmed up a little, we should step outside for a minute. We don’t have to stay long, but I want you to see the view from there.”

Mike agrees readily, the freezing air hitting his face as they go out onto the terrace only registering as an afterthought, because it really is breathtaking. He’s only seen New York from above once, remembering the time he spent on top of Rockefeller Center with his Grammy fondly to this day, and London has no trouble competing with that.

“It’s so beautiful,” he breathes out, taking in the sea of lights from the little corner they claimed for themselves. If he only looks ahead, it’s almost like it’s just the two of them up here.

Harvey is right behind him, his arms wrapped around his middle as they look out on the view together, his breathing loud and steady in his ear.

“Does this make up for the fact that I left you alone for half the day?”

“Absolutely. Besides, you had a pretty good reason.”

“And I’m all yours now,” Harvey promises, kissing his temple. “Until you leave for the airport tomorrow.”

Mike turns in his embrace, beaming before he puts his arms around him too and kisses him. And as inconvenient as the timing of this trip was, it would have been worth it just for this one perfect moment.

They only get a few more minutes before the garden closes for the night, and the fact that his toes became numb a while ago is the only consolation when they have to leave.

Taking a taxi home, they turn up the heating right away, moving to the sofa with a blanket, two glasses, and a bottle of wine once they’ve changed into more comfortable clothes.

“To a great day,” Mike says when they clink glasses.

“And an even better night,” Harvey agrees. He leans against the backrest, making space for Mike to cuddle up to his side. He promptly does, letting out a sigh of utter contentment when his warmth and scent engulf him.

This might just be what he misses most, the one thing they can’t simulate digitally, that only works when they’re truly together. The calm moments, the togetherness, the quiet intimacy of being close just for the sake of it.

It’s the perfect ending to the day, calm and uneventful as it is. Just the two of them. There’s nothing else he needs.

They don’t move until Harvey’s phone buzzes with a text, a frown crossing his face when he reads it.

“Did you post any pictures from tonight?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Donna just asked if we enjoyed ourselves at Sky Garden.” He types something, his eyebrows lifting at the response. “Ah. Looks like we’ve been seen.”

“Oh. We have? When exactly?”

“Someone tweeted about us leaving the building together, apparently. No pictures or videos though.”

“How the hell did she find that so fast?”

Harvey shrugs. “She’s Donna.”

“Right.” Mike glances at Harvey, sucking in his lip. “You don’t… mind, do you? I mean, we haven’t exactly been stealthy in public. It was bound to happen at some point, and if they only saw us leaving instead of… you know, smooching up there, that’s still tame.”

“I don’t mind. And if someone had posted a video of us _smooching up there_ , then I’d only care because that was a private moment and I’d like to keep it that way. As for people knowing, I think we’ve established that I very much don’t have a problem with that.”

“Yeah, no. I thought so. I was just wondering… you’re not worried about your career then?”

Harvey snorts. “If they stopped casting queer actors, there wouldn’t be any plays anymore. Why, are you worried about yours?”

“No, not really. I’ll probably always find one job or another, and if someone doesn’t cast me because I happen to date a guy, then I don’t wanna work with that person anyway.”

He knows how lucky he is, to be privileged enough to say that. Not everyone can.

“My thoughts exactly. Besides, this isn't the first time I've been seen with a man, and there must be more rumors and suggestive pictures of us than we could possibly keep track of at this point anyway. If someone cared to look, they probably already figured it out.”

“Oh, they have. A lot of them. You should see the comments I get sometimes. I mean, look at this,” Mike says, grabbing his phone to open Instagram.

His posts have been vague enough, none of them showing the two of them together, though people have theories about what he’s doing in London of all places. Most of them are about Harvey, but one in particular makes him snort when he reads it.

“Here, see? Someone just commented asking if I’m on my honeymoon. And they’re not even the first person to refer to this trip as such.”

“Well, it does feel a bit like that, doesn’t it? Bar my absence for most of it.”

“Yeah.”

Mike pauses, his finger hovering over the screen so long that it goes dark. He tries to shake the thought, but he should have known better – he’s become rather familiar with how persistent it is recently.

Harvey, of course, notices.

“What?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Something’s on your mind. Come on, you can tell me.”

“It’s nothing, really. I just…”

Mike bites his lip, hesitating before he makes up his mind, the rather desperate desire to just know getting the better of him.

“I have a question, but it’s… kinda loaded. Just- don’t take this as anything more than it is, alright? No matter what you say in response, I’m not gonna be pissed, it’s not gonna ruin this trip for either of us, and it sure as hell isn’t gonna change how I feel about you.”

“I realize you’re trying to reassure me, but now I’m more scared than I would have been if you’d just asked.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mike mutters, then takes a deep breath. “I was just wondering, you know, purely hypothetically, if you would… ever wanna get married? Like, in general. To anyone.”

Harvey blinks at him, shifting as he considers the question.

“To anyone? Most definitely not. To you?” He tilts his head, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Perhaps. In fact, I think chances of that are pretty high. Would you?”

“Yeah, I think I would.” Mike clears his throat. “I mean, I know I would. To you. Just… at some point. Seriously, I’m really not hinting at anything. I just thought this is something we should talk about, right?”

“You’re right. It is.”

Mike reaches for his hand, fondling his fingers.

“It was never really important to me, getting married, but after that lunch I had with Louis where he told me he was going to propose to Sheila, I just… started thinking about it. And I came to the conclusion that I rather like the idea. For the future. Eventually.”

Harvey nods slowly.

“It’s not something I particularly wanted for myself either,” he then says, shrugging. “Didn’t really come up when I planned my future. But I can see it, when it’s you waiting for me at the altar.”

Mike wonders, briefly, if it’s always going to be like this, if Harvey will keep on springing these romantic declarations on him for the rest of their lives.

The rest of their lives.

He really does like the sound of that.

“That’s… good. Great, yeah. Looks like we want the same thing then.”

“Looks like it.” Harvey smirks, lacing their fingers together. He kisses the back of his hand, lingering on his ring finger before he draws back and murmurs, “I think we just got pre-engaged.”

Mike cranes his head to get a look at him.

“I guess we did. Sort of. I… don’t really know what that means, but I think I like it.”

“It’s a promise of a promise. Of a ring on this finger one day,” Harvey says, brushing the soft skin above his knuckle. Then he looks at Mike, smiling when he leans in to kiss him. “But don’t worry. When I propose to you for real, you’ll know. There’ll be nothing vague about it. No room for interpretation or doubt.”

“Hm. Or maybe I’ll propose to _you_. Ever think about that? Anything could happen, you know.”

“Now who’s making it into a competition?”

Before Mike can defend himself, Harvey drops his phone and moves until he’s half on top of him, nipping any further argument in the bud as he kisses him until he just stops thinking.

The last coherent thought Mike has for a while is that, perhaps, losing isn’t so bad sometimes.

*

Mike’s last day in London, in true English fashion, starts with rain.

He’s not in a hurry to get outside when he has a sleepy and comfortable Harvey right next to him though, and by the time they’ve managed to leave the bed and get ready, the pouring has thankfully stopped.

There’s not much planned for today anyway. They have a lengthy, indulgent breakfast, then visit the Globe because they’re actors and they’re sort of obligated to see it at least once, and spend the rest of the early afternoon at Hyde Park before it’s time for Mike to get going.

This goodbye is the easiest yet, not because he’s getting used to it, but because he knows he’ll see Harvey again in a mere two weeks.

And they fly by. Once he’s back on American soil, just a few hours before he has a presentation at school, he’s sucked back into his everyday life and everything that comes with it right away.

He spends most of his time working on last-minute assignments, cramming for finals, taking care of some technicalities regarding the new apartment he’ll move into in three weeks, finally having signed the contract, and before he knows it, Harvey’s final day in London is just around the corner.

While he packs up his things on the other side of the ocean, Mike makes sure the apartment is immaculately clean and ready for him. He clears out space for his clothes in the closet, changes the bed sheets, stocks the fridge with all of Harvey’s favorite things, and tries his hardest to fall asleep once there’s nothing else he could take care of despite the anticipation fluttering in his stomach.

The last few hours before his return feel the longest. Mike can’t keep himself from counting the minutes until Harvey lands at LaGuardia, then counting the minutes to his approximate arrival in Manhattan once he texts him that he’s back in the country.

Despite expecting and eagerly awaiting it – or maybe because of that – the sound of the key in the lock instantly makes his heart race.

Mike jumps up from the sofa, and before he’s even halfway down the hall, the door opens and Harvey steps inside, smiling as soon as his eyes land on him.

“Hey, honey. I’m home.”

A grin spreads on Mike’s face that he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. “And what time do you call this?”

Harvey doesn’t even get a chance to respond when he flings himself at him, marveling at the warmth engulfing him when he pulls him closer.

How wonderful the smallest things can be.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs into his shoulder, and Harvey draws back slightly, his lips finding Mike’s at once.

“It’s good to be back,” he says when they part, and Mike just has to wrap his arms around him again before he gives him some space.

“Good to have you back. Are you hungry? Don’t tell me you ate on the plane again. I know what kind of crap they serve.”

“I _am_ hungry,” Harvey agrees, amused.

“You want something sweet? I tried my hand at a brownie recipe, they’re probably still warm. Rachel swore I couldn’t mess them up.”

“Did she.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Mike, I would love to try your homemade brownies. It’s very sweet that you made something, by the way.”

“Oh, that was purely egoistical. I was restless and I needed something to do with my hands.”

Sending Harvey off to freshen up a little, Mike prepares the coffee and cuts them two generous slices. The few crumbs he tries in advance are promising, and Harvey’s pleasantly surprised look when he joins him on the sofa and takes the first bite is all the validation he needs.

“You’re getting better and better,” he remarks, licking a bit of chocolate from his thumb. “I’m almost looking forward to whatever you decide to try next.”

“Hm. Wait till I’m your age then. I’ll blow you away.”

“One more comment about my age and I’ll take my bags and go back to London,” Harvey threatens.

Mike snorts. “Yeah, alright. Safe travels, old man.”

Harvey shakes his head, devoting himself to his brownie instead of gracing him with a response, and Mike only realizes that he’s been staring at him when he meets his eyes and lifts an amused eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just… happy.”

“That I’m back?”

“Yes. And that we’re here, together, when we didn’t know if we would be for so long.”

It’s weird to think about that now after all the time that has passed, after how sure he has become that this isn’t going to go away, that it’s there to stay, getting stronger rather than disappearing like he feared it would. He still remembers the ache of it so clearly, the uncertainty that was almost unbearable whenever he thought about the future.

How far away all that seems now.

“It’s a good thing we are,” Harvey says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “If either of us leaves again, at least we’ll know now that this is what we’ll come back to.”

“Hopefully not for a while yet, but yes. Absolutely.” Mike tilts his head. “Was it hard, saying goodbye this time?”

“Not as hard as it was with ‘Virginia Woolf’. It’s been an incredible experience, and it taught me a lot, but it’s alright that it came to an end. The cast, I’ll miss working with, but that’s the way this goes. And London… we can always go back if we feel like it. There’s a lot I still haven’t shown you, and you did want to return to that library sometime.”

“I do like the sound of that.”

Putting his plate down, Mike moves to lean against Harvey’s chest, smiling when he shifts to accommodate him, one arm securely around his shoulder.

“So what’s next for you?” he asks, twining their hands together.

“We’ll find out soon. I have an audition on Wednesday, and I’m getting drinks with the director who wants to revive ‘Death of a Salesman’ on Thursday. If those don’t meet my expectations, I’ll schedule some more meetings for next week. Donna passed enough offers on to me.”

“Not wasting any time, huh?”

“I’m already behind schedule, Mike. Most of those plays would be on Broadway though. One of them in Chicago, but that’s not on the top of my list anyway. If it’s any consolation.”

“It’s fine. I’m not worried,” Mike tells him, because he’s really not. Not anymore. As uncertain as he was about their future before, it’s the surest thing in his life now.

They stay on that sofa for a while, relishing that neither of them has anything to do or somewhere to be for a change. Mike only moves when his phone buzzes, glancing at the screen.

“Rachel says welcome back. She wants to know how you liked the brownies.”

“Tell her thanks, and you already know I enjoyed them. Fishing for compliments, are we?”

He huffs. “I would never. But if you have any more you wanna give me, keep them coming.”

He texts Rachel back, then opens his camera to take a selfie to send to her as well.

Harvey, seeing what he’s doing, moves to kiss his temple, making his smile as he takes the photo entirely genuine.

As unplanned as it was, the snapshot turns out better than expected.

“Oh, this is nice,” Mike mutters, and Harvey hums in agreement when he shows it to him.

They’re obviously cuddled up, not an inch of space between them, both of them a little disheveled as they look into the camera, giving the whole image a soft quality that Mike falls in love with instantly.

He sends the picture to Rachel, then takes a look at it again.

“This is _really_ nice. Actually, you know what? We might as well make it official now that you’re back. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Go ahead. Just send it to me too, alright?”

He does, then opens Instagram, only looking at the picture once more before he posts it with the caption, _He came back to me #ilovehim_.

“I love you too,” Harvey murmurs.

Mike doesn’t wait to see how people react, instead putting his phone aside as he returns his attention to Harvey and his lips brushing his jaw.

Let the internet go wild by itself. He, for one, has more important matters to attend to when Harvey tilts his head to kiss him deeply, properly, the first time of many and nowhere near the last.

It’s the most important matter in the world, as far as he’s concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sky Garden](https://skygarden.london/) has the most amazing view of London, and you only have to book a free ticket to visit.
> 
> The main story is now complete! Wow. This was originally meant to be the ending, but I felt like an epilogue to really wrap things up was warranted. Fair warning, just in case you couldn't tell by the tone of this chapter, things are getting unbelievably mushy from this point on ;)


	17. Epilogue: Three years later

“This is… nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Harvey says, an amused smile on his lips. “What did you think it was going to look like?”

“I don’t know,” Mike mutters. “Part of me was still expecting to walk into a sex dungeon, I guess.”

He snorts. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“If only I could. I’d love nothing more than to forget that ever happened, believe me. I still think I should make a toast and let them know how I really found out about them.”

“You could, but I’ll remind you once more that if you make a scene at their wedding, they have every right to make one at yours, and I think neither of us wants to see what that would look like.”

“You’re right. Although they may not even care that I saw them, who knows. Anyway, we’re not talking about _my_ wedding yet, remember?”

“Perfectly,” Harvey remarks, putting a hand on the small of his back. It’s a shame, with all of them being in one place for the first time since the opening night of Jessica’s ‘Buried Child’ a year ago, but this is Louis and Sheila’s big day. The focus should be on them, no one else.

“Come on. Let’s say hello to everyone.”

There’s quite the number of guests, not few of which Harvey knows or has worked with before. Making the rounds to say hi and introduce Mike – even if not as his fiancé, much to his chagrin – takes up most of the time they have before the ceremony starts.

Rachel is there already, looking gorgeous in peach when she waves at them across the meadow, her boyfriend on her arm. Jessica and Jeff flew in from Chicago, where they moved a while ago, though that hasn’t stopped Jessica from working on Broadway when the opportunity arose. It’s a strange life they all lead, as Harvey often thinks to himself, so committed to their craft that their personal lives have to take a back seat more often than not.

All the better to see that they’re still finding their way through the daunting jungle of maintaining a work-life-balance, Sheila and Louis being the prime example of that.

Harvey knows that the only reason they waited this long to get married, having been engaged for two years now, is because their schedules kept getting in the way, making it impossible to find a date that left them both free to focus on the wedding preparations instead of the projects they were working on. Mike and he are most likely going to face the same challenges, unless they get married right after Mike graduates and before he takes on his first job afterwards – provided Harvey isn’t working on something then.

It’ll take some careful planning on both parts, that much is already clear, but looking back on their past few years together, it’s nothing they won’t be able to handle.

Harvey would be lying if he said it was easy, reconciling all these different aspects of their lives that are bound to clash with each other and often do. It’s anything but easy on a good day, and it can seem downright impossible on a bad one, but so far they’ve always figured it out. How they maintain their relationship may be unconventional, staying connected digitally when they can’t be in the same place having proven to be a saving grace more than once, but it works for them, and that’s all Harvey cares about.

They’ve built up a life together, even when they’re apart sometimes. And he wouldn’t want to give that up for anything.

“I have to say, I am loving this venue,” Mike mutters when the woman they’ve been talking to excuses herself, glancing around.

“Getting inspired? If you’re looking for ideas, you know all you have to do is ask me.”

Mike turns around to face Donna, who puts one hand on each of their backs in greeting.

“Shh. I told you, it’s-“

“Not official yet, I know.” She gives him a once-over, then does the same with Harvey. “Cute. You two match. Looking very handsome, both of you.”

“Thanks. It goes without saying that your dress is stunning and you look like a goddess."

“It does, but I still appreciate hearing it.” She smirks, then tilts her head, letting her eyes wander. “It _is_ a beautiful venue, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Harvey agrees. “Shame they got to it first.”

The perfect weather definitely plays into it; warm but not uncomfortably so, the cool breeze offering a welcome refreshment, gently moving the flowers surrounding them. There are birds nearby, their chirping reaching them despite the chatter and the music playing in the background. There’s a sense of peace and tranquility to this place that is hard to put into words, like they’ve stepped into another world when they entered it, entirely removed from anything that may be going on outside. He can’t imagine a better place to get married.

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye out. As soon as you give me the go-ahead, I’m getting to work.”

Mike throws her a look. “I told you, you don’t have to do that. You may have this weird PA thing going on with Harvey, but you do have clients other than us that you need to take care of. Presumably.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “I still don’t know what your job actually is.”

“It’s a unique position specifically created for myself. By me. And I may have other clients, but Harvey is my main one, which makes him – and you by default – my main priority. Besides, I told you. You’ll want me to take care of this, and you’ll need me to do it before you lose your pretty little head in the process. Wedding planning is a bottomless rabbit hole, Mike. Just accept it and hand over the reins. Don’t worry, you’ll still get veto power.”

“Oh, I’m getting veto power for my own wedding, am I? You’re too generous.”

“I know. And I thought you wanted to keep it secret? Speak any louder and you won’t need to worry about that anymore, because everyone will have heard by then.”

Mike crosses his arms and mutters something she conveniently doesn’t pick up on.

“Somewhere outside _would_ be nice,” he admits as he looks around, rolling his eyes when she grins.

“Duly noted. You’ll have a selection of venues on your desk by next week.”

“Fine. If you insist, I can hardly stop you.”

He could, but Donna’s right and they both know it. Wedding planning can be a bitch.

“You’d like that too, right?” he asks, glancing at Harvey.

“Very much so, actually. We’ll have to see about the weather, depending on when we- do it, but I’m sure there are ways to make it work.”

“If there are, then Donna will surely figure them out,” Mike remarks dryly.

She just smirks in reply.

“Oh, people are sitting down,” she then notes. “I think it’s about to start.”

They move to their seats, and once the chatter has died down it doesn’t take long for the music to change and Louis to walk in, wearing the biggest grin Harvey has ever seen on him.

The ceremony is beautiful. Sheila looks like an angel in her creamy white dress, and their vows are unexpectedly touching (as well as PG-13, unlike Mike feared). Harvey is less surprised by the fact that Louis cries and more that he finds himself discreetly wiping away an errant tear or two as well.

Mike really has turned him soft. Luckily, he seems too occupied blinking against his own tears and sniffing as he watches the proceedings to notice.

It’s short and sweet, swift enough to keep anyone’s attention from drifting and so charming that Mike sighs dreamily once it’s over and they rise from their seats to applaud.

“That was lovely,” he murmurs as Sheila and Louis walk down the aisle with their hands entwined and a look of pure bliss on their faces, and Harvey can only agree, though he finds the idea that this will be the two of them someday even lovelier. Someday soon, no less.

“Liked the vows, did you? I should have taken notes,” he murmurs.

Mike snorts. “Honestly, just tell me that you love me more than Captain Kirk and I’ll be happy.”

“Are you allowed to lie in your wedding vows?”

A startled laugh escapes Mike that he stifles a second too late, thankfully drowned out by the applause around them.

“Oh my god. You are _such_ an idiot.”

“And yet you said yes when I proposed to you, which makes you the bigger idiot, really.”

“Yeah, no, I take it back. I don’t wanna marry you after all.”

“Hmm.” Harvey wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer, cradling his face with one hand before he kisses him, pouring all his devotion and love into it until Mike lets out a muffled sound, practically melting against him.

That’s the good thing about spending so much time apart. Even the smallest touches still hold the power to unravel him because he never had the chance to get used to them.

Harvey only uses that power for good, of course. He just likes to make a point sometimes.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs when he pulls back, lifting an eyebrow.

Mike huffs, licking his lips as he gazes at him. “Okay, fine. You convinced me.”

“Really? Here? Now? You two are unbelievable,” Donna comments as she moves past them to get in line to congratulate the happy couple. “Try and keep it in your pants, won’t you?”

“I don’t know what her problem is,” Harvey mutters, smoothing down his jacket. “I’m sure Louis and Sheila wouldn’t mind.”

With the number of guests trying to make their way towards them, they hang back for a while before hugging the newlyweds and wishing them all the luck in the world. Waiters are floating around the place to hand out drinks in the meantime, there’s music playing in the background, and nibbles are being served before the actual first course, which is of course where Mike can be found while everyone else mingles.

“Get the name of that caterer,” he instructs Donna, licking his fingers clean, and Harvey rolls his eyes but makes sure to try everything, just so he knows what he’s talking about.

Against Mike’s lingering worries that the wedding would entail questionable practices or stories being made public that he really doesn’t want to hear, it’s a great day and a wonderful celebration.

There’s fantastic food, an open bar with anything you could hope for, several speeches that only have a few inappropriate lines (and those are in good taste), the first dance from the married couple, and a few games that Harvey thinks are ridiculous but enjoys watching nevertheless. He’ll still have to have a word with Donna before his own wedding though. Best to make sure she doesn’t get any ideas.

It’s a merry group, lots of laughter and chattering all around at any time, and he enjoys meeting the other guests, talking to new people and catching up with those he already knows.

Eventually, of course, the ‘Virginia Woolf’ crew flocks together, most of them having stayed in touch in one way or another and just waiting for the right moment to have a reunion.

Harvey is the first to join Jessica and Jeff when they sit down at their table, never one to pass up an opportunity to talk to her – since she moved away they’ve been seeing even less of each other than before, and while they keep in touch over the phone, she’s just as busy as he is. Maintaining one long-distance relationship is hard enough, and since Mike is his top priority, the contact he has with others is sporadic at best.

All the better to see time and time again that, whenever they do get to talk or even meet up, it’s still like it always used to be. And today is no exception to that. He finds himself relaxing instantly in her presence, only realizing how much he has missed the easy companionship she offers now that he gets to enjoy it again.

Mike follows him to their table soon, Rachel in tow, as eager to talk about his final year at Juilliard as he is to listen to Jessica telling them about her current project. It doesn’t take long for Donna to show up and join the conversation, and eventually Sheila and Louis make their way towards them as well, completing the gathering, and despite the party going on around them, for a moment it almost feels like it’s four years ago again.

“What a wonderful wedding,” Jessica tells them when they’ve taken their seats. “I haven’t attended a ceremony this touching in a while. It was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Sheila says, smiling as she takes Louis’ hand. “We were so happy to hear that all of you could make it. I know we don’t nearly talk enough, but we still remember ‘Virginia Woolf’ and the time we spent together so fondly.”

“It was very special,” Jessica agrees. “For all of us, I believe.”

“And look what came out of it, apart from the incredible memories,” Mike says, grinning as he nods at their connected hands. “We all took quite the souvenir home, didn’t we? Hard to forget about it with a reminder like that.”

“For you more than any of us,” Donna remarks, earning herself a dry look. Knowing exactly how much the play meant and still means to Mike, on so many levels, Harvey is quite sure that he wouldn’t have forgotten one moment of it even if he didn’t have his memory.

It’s pretty much the same for him, after all.

“Although you took a while longer than the others to figure things out,” she adds, and Mike briefly meets his eyes, scratching his neck when he looks away.

“Well… somewhat, I guess.”

“Come on. We all remember that one fight you had during tech week. I know for a fact you were very much still in the process of figuring it out at that point.”

“But they did, which is the main thing,” Rachel says gently.

“Mike had a lot of things to figure out at the time,” Jessica points out, an amused smile on her lips. “How to act, for one.”

“Hey, I knew how to act! I just… had trouble expressing it sometimes.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Which isn’t a bad thing, if you think about it in terms of the final result and how much of an achievement it was for you to reach that point.”

“Little puppy grew up,” Donna remarks, grinning despite the fondness in her voice when Mike sends her a withering look.

“I still think you should have let me tutor you,” Louis states, his eyes narrowed. “I would have gotten you there in no time. Even further, if you’d let me.”

Coming from anyone else, Harvey would have taken offense – he did an amazing job of tutoring Mike, and Mike did an even better one of improving himself – but this is Louis, and it’s his wedding day, so he’ll let it slide.

It’s worth seeing Mike’s face in response to that statement, at any rate.

“I… think it’s best for our relationship that I didn’t,” he says slowly. “God, I do remember that pony speech you gave me though. I had no idea what to make of that. Do you remember how you used to look at me during rehearsals whenever I didn’t get something right? I never knew whether you were trying to teach me something or just straight up planned the best way to get rid of me.”

The reminiscing is inevitable, but Harvey _has_ been looking forward to it. ‘Virginia Woolf’ remains one of the best experiences of his life; professionally and otherwise. Other projects have come close, but none of them ever quite meant to him what that production did, and it’s nice to dive into those memories and relive what it made him feel. Still does, in many ways.

“I’ll admit that I wasn’t sure how the constellation of the four of you would work when I cast you,” Jessica says. “It was a risk, one that certainly paid off, but a leap of faith nevertheless.”

“Isn’t it always, when it comes to creative work?” Mike shrugs. “You can’t ever be certain of the outcome, can you? And if you are, and the outcome is exactly what you predicted going in, there’s not much that’s creative about it, is there?”

“Look who’s been paying attention in class,” Harvey remarks, grinning when he elbows him.

“He’s right,” Jessica agrees. “It’s a process, and that means developments and changes are not just to be expected, they’re necessary. But with you, I was even less certain than I usually am.”

Mike grins. “And aren’t you so glad you listened to your gut and went for it anyway?”

“I am. You were right when you said I wouldn’t regret giving you that part. I never did. Not you, and none of the others either.”

“Well, thank god you did cast all of them,” Donna says. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. And it would have been a real shame to miss out on that.”

Harvey can only agree. Of course, none of them could have anticipated any of the things that came out of Jessica’s decision to build up this play with exactly the four of them, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? That’s what a leap of faith is all about. You may not be able to see the end, and it may not always lead to something good, but sometimes it leads to something extraordinary, something you wouldn’t have thought possible in your wildest dreams.

And that’s where the magic happens. That’s what the best things come out of. Not of certainty, not of what’s safe and sure and easy to obtain. Nothing worth having is ever easy to come by.

His eyes fall on Mike, beaming amidst the rest of them as he listens to their reminiscing, and he finds himself smiling too, lacing their fingers together to hold on tightly.

It’s not easy at all, but god, it’s worth the fight.

Mike glances at him, squeezing his hand when he meets his eyes.

“That was such a great time,” he sighs, the smile on his lips turning just a tad wistful. “I still miss it. Not just the acting, being on stage and performing and everything, but working on that production specifically. In that exact constellation of people, at that point in my life. It was… so much more than I ever thought it could be.”

“Larger than life,” Rachel mutters, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Isn’t that what they say?”

“Rightfully so.” Harvey brushes the back of Mike’s hand with his thumb. “And we may not be able to go back to that, but you’ll get the chance to create new stories and experiences soon enough.”

Jessica hums. “You’re almost done now, aren’t you? So when will we get to see you on stage again?”

“Oh, soon, I hope! I’m graduating in a few months, and I’ll start going to auditions as soon as I know when exactly I can commit to a project fulltime. Then I just need to find someone who’s willing to cast me and I’ll be back in action.”

“You won’t have to look for long,” Harvey assures him. “You’ll have offers piling up to choose from before you know it. Anyone would be lucky to have you on board.”

“Yeah, but you’re my- boyfriend. You have to say that.”

“Well, I don’t, but I still think he’s right,” Rachel remarks. “It was such a pleasure to watch you on stage, Mike. People _want_ to look at you.”

He bites his lip, doing an absolutely terrible job of concealing his pride. Harvey adores that look on him.

“Yeah, well. I’m awesome.”

He snorts, most of the group gracing the remark with a good-natured roll of their eyes, though no one disagrees.

“Do let us know how things go once you’re looking for work,” Jessica says. “And when we can get tickets to see you back on stage.”

“I will,” Mike promises. “What about your next play, though? When can we expect to see that?”

“We’re announcing details about that soon,” she says. “But it’s all shaping up quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, I believe that. I’m very much looking forward to it already.”

“We’ll try to come and see it too,” Sheila agrees, and Louis nods.

“I’ll be rather busy for the next few weeks, but I hope to be able to squeeze it in.”

“Don’t worry about it if you can’t. I’d love for you to see it, but if you don’t, it certainly won’t be my last project.”

Harvey huffs. “Knowing you, you already have plans for what comes after this one anyway.”

“That she does,” Jeff agrees, the corner of his mouth lifting when Jessica turns to him. “Always working.”

“Like you’re any better.”

“I never said that.”

She smiles, then shrugs lightly.

“He’s right. I do work a lot, and I try to make it a rule not to spend all of my free time on the job on top of that, so I didn’t want to bring this up today. But since we’re on the subject already, and you’re here, Rachel…”

Rachel lifts her eyebrows. “Me?”

Jessica nods. “There’s something I wanted to discuss with you. I know you’ve only worked in New York so far, and you have your classes on the side, but maybe you’d consider relocating for a limited time.”

“You mean to Chicago?”

“Exactly. I’m still in the early stages of planning my next project, but I have a vision for it that practically screams your name. You don’t have to give me an answer now, but do let me know if you’re interested and I’ll give you a call with the details sometime.”

“Uh, yes, I’m definitely interested!” She grins. “I’d love to get the chance to work somewhere else for a while, and any project with you is a dream come true.”

Jessica smiles. “Wonderful.”

“Whoa, wait, you’re leaving me?” Mike clutches his chest. “Who’s gonna do my yoga classes?”

“I think maybe it’s time you learned to leave the nest, Mike,” Rachel tells him, patting his hand. “You’ve come so far. You’ll be fine without me instructing you for a few months.”

“But will I be fine without my best friend?”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Harvey says casually, lifting an eyebrow when Mike’s eyes snap to his, no doubt remembering the same moment he told him that.

_You were my best friend in the whole world even before we got together, and you still are now, and there’s no one else I’d want to spend the rest of my life with._

Harvey counts himself very lucky to have been on the receiving end of Mike’s proposal speech even after he beat him to it, because the things he told him that day – this only being one of them – are nothing he’ll ever forget again or take for granted.

Plus, it makes for excellent teasing material.

“My best friend who I don’t have sex with,” Mike amends.

“Don’t worry, even if I do leave for a while, I’ll still be here for the important stuff,” she assures him.

Harvey knows she’s talking about the wedding rather than in spiritual terms, nodding imperceptibly when she meets his eyes. She _is_ Mike’s best friend, and a good one of his too. There’s no way they’d get married without her.

Louis, who has followed the conversation in silence for the most part, puts down his champagne glass and narrows his eyes.

“Well, as interesting as all that no doubt is, are we really going to ignore the massive elephant sitting at this table?”

Jeff lifts an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, Louis?”

“I’m talking about them,” he says with a pointed nod in his and Mike’s direction, “and the fact that they’re obviously engaged.”

The look on Mike’s face would have been priceless, if Harvey hadn’t been sure his own was a perfect mirror image of it.

There’s a stunned silence around the table until Mike slowly holds up a hand, shaking his head.

“No, no, no. Are you serious? How did you- we were trying to keep it secret!”

“Keep it secret by wearing your rings?” Louis asks, throwing him a doubtful look. “Please. I have never once seen Harvey wear any kind of jewelry unless he was on stage. Dead giveaway.”

Mike turns to him incredulously. “I told you you couldn’t get away with that!”

“And I told you, there’s no way I’m not wearing it, what with how desperate you were to give it to me.”

“Now, I wouldn’t say desperate-“

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he cuts in. “They know now.”

“Well, I knew about it anyway,” Donna points out.

“As did I.” Rachel smiles. “And it’s great not to have to worry about giving it away anymore.”

“The question is, why didn’t the rest of us know?” Jessica asks, leaning in.

“Mike made me do it,” Harvey says with a shrug.

He slaps his arm. “We _were_ going to tell you, honestly. Really soon. We just didn’t want to do it today and steal the show, you know? And it’s not like we’ve been keeping it secret for long anyway. It’s still… very new.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but this wedding has already been a huge success. You could hardly ruin that at this point,” Louis says, waving his hand. “Besides, this is great news that we’ve been waiting for and that I personally feel is long overdue anyway.”

“It’s wonderful news,” Sheila agrees with a grin. Harvey lets out a relieved breath at the sight, because he suspected they would take it in stride, but he’s still glad to find that he was right.

“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order then.” Jessica gives him a pointed look. “And now that the cat’s out of the bag, you had better tell us the whole story.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Mike asks. “Because I’ll warn you, it’s unbearably romantic.”

“Like you didn’t cry when it happened,” Harvey remarks dryly, chuckling when he sends him a withering look.

He didn’t cry at first, he’ll give him that.

_“Oh my god. What are you doing?”_

_“What does it look like?” Harvey asked, amused despite the distinct pounding of his heart._

_Mike swallowed as he stared at the ring he’d just pulled out, then up at him._

_“No.”_

_“Is that your answer?”_

_He threw his head back with a groan. “Harvey.”_

_“Shut up. I’m trying to do something here.”_

_Mike glared at him, but bit his lip and kept silent as he waited._

_“As you know, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and even though we haven’t always been physically together, I think it’s given me a pretty good idea of what life with you is like. It’s definitely been long enough for me to know that you never clean up after yourself, for one. You leave the kitchen a mess every time you cook, you don’t do the laundry until you absolutely have to, you never make the bed in the mornings. Seriously, I’ve never met anyone who was so reluctant to just take one minute out of their day to avoid a mess. Don’t get me started on the state of the closet.”_

_Mike regarded him doubtfully as he listened._

_“I’m not trying to be rude, but this is the worst proposal of all time.”_

_Harvey smiled. “You can also be a little obnoxious sometimes,” he carried on, unfazed. “You always think you’re the cleverest person in the room. I know you lash out when you’re upset and say things you don’t mean.”_

_He took a moment to look at Mike, the familiar angles of his face, the ridiculously blue eyes and the shape of his lips that somehow knew exactly how Harvey needed to be kissed every time._

_“And I know you always come home eventually and own up to it,” he continued, his voice softening. “When you mess up, you apologize. It matters so much to you to always make amends. I don’t mind that you think you’re so smart, because you are, and you never make others feel stupid despite it. I love listening to you talk about something bizarre that piqued your interest and made you decide to stay up all night to become an expert on the matter. You’re the funniest person I know; in fact, and I’m only gonna say this once, I think you’re hilarious. It’s annoying that I have to keep reminding you to put your stuff away, but you’re the only person I’m willing to fight with about that until we’re old and wrinkly.”_

_He lifted his shoulders, hoping the tenderness washing over him as he looked at Mike showed on his face._

_“What I’m trying to say is, I see you. All your rough edges and weird quirks and the things you do that drive me insane. I see you. And I am so goddamn in love with you. All of you. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, and I want all of it, more than anything. For the rest of our lives. So if you want that too…”_

_He eased the ring out of the box, taking Mike’s hand._

_“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”_

Needless to say that his answer was yes, and his eyes did shine with tears despite the huge smile on his face at that point. No matter what else is going to happen, Harvey is sure that will remain one of his most cherished memories for the rest of his life.

“I wasn’t crying,” Mike mutters.

“You absolutely were.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that, let me tell them all about what _your_ reaction was once I agreed.”

“Shut up. I’m telling the story.”

Donna snorts. “You’re like an old married couple already. I seriously can’t wait to see what you’re like once you’ve actually tied the knot.”

“She just called you old,” Mike points out, grinning when Harvey kicks him under the table. 

“Well, do tell us how it went down. So you proposed, Harvey?”

He smirks. “I sure did.”

“And then I did too, on principle. I can’t let him have all the great romantic gestures.”

_“I can’t believe you beat me to it,” Mike muttered, marveling at the sight of the ring on his finger._

_“I thought it wasn’t a competition,” Harvey teased, pretending he wasn’t doing the exact same thing._

_“It wasn’t, until you leapfrogged me. You knew, didn’t you?”_

_“I suspected,” he admitted. “I didn’t know what timeframe you had planned, though. When were you going to do it?”_

_“Sometime next month, probably. Like, literally two or three weeks from now.” He sighed. “I had this whole day planned. Things I wanted to say to you…”_

_“Hmm. Shame you won’t get to go all soft and sappy on me now.”_

_“Oh, you think?” Mike glanced at him, a look of determination crossing his face. “Well, tough luck. I might not get to do the whole big surprise thing, but I didn’t write this speech for nothing. You’re still gonna hear it, whether you like it or not. In fact, let me start right now because this is going to take a while.”_

He did, of course, very much like it; especially when Mike started reciting what he described as an ‘extensive, but not exclusive’ list of things he loved about him, like the fact that he was his best friend among lots and lots of other things.

“I’d wanted to ask him for a while, actually,” Harvey says, leaning back in his seat. “I just never figured out the right moment.”

“Yeah, you took your time,” Mike agrees. “He even talked to my grandmother about it before she passed away, apparently.”

“I did. She gave me the idea for how I ended up proposing too.”

Having done his research beforehand, Harvey didn’t go into the conversation unprepared, though he’ll admit that he was rather steamrolled by the sheer amount of possibilities. People really go crazy with that sort of thing, and while he didn’t think Mike was the type to appreciate a fancy, over-the-top stunt, he still found himself a little lost.

He wanted to do right by Mike, after all. If things went according to plan, and he rather hoped they would, then this was the only proposal he was ever going to get, and that meant it should be nothing short of perfect.

Luckily, Edith was more than happy to help him figure things out. After her initial excitement when he told her about his plans – a rather touching reaction that Harvey will always remember fondly – she agreed that something of a smaller scale was better suited to his tastes, telling him about how Mike’s parents got engaged, and how her own proposal went down way back.

Harvey got all the inspiration he needed from that, along with a distinct sense of rightness as the plan took shape in his mind.

“What _did_ you do?” Louis asks curiously.

Harvey glances at Mike, smiling.

“I took him for a walk,” he says simply.

“Because the best gift you can give someone you love,” Mike adds, “and this is a direct quote, by the way, is time.”

“Yes, it is. Plus, it gave me the chance to freshen up his memory about some of the defining moments in our relationship. Fortunately, most of those took place here in the city, which made it easier to plan a route covering them all. We had one in London that I couldn’t include for obvious reasons, but it got an honorary mention.”

He was dead certain Mike was going to realize what he was doing at that point, figuring that a reminder of their conversation about the promise of a promise would give the purpose of their outing away, but much to his amusement, he failed to pick up on any of the clues.

It did help with the slight nervousness Harvey was surprised to find sprouting in his stomach; small, but persistent nevertheless. At some point he stopped thinking about it so much and just enjoyed the ride, curious to find out how far he could take it.

“He was really inconspicuous about it, I’ll give him that,” Mike says. “He was all like, oh, let’s make an entirely random turn left there, and then he went, hey, remember that one time we were here before and it was super romantic? Like he hadn’t planned it at all.”

Harvey snorts. “I think it was more that you were just totally oblivious.”

He turns to Louis. “He had no idea, if you can believe it. He just thought I was ‘being sappy’, which, I’ll point out, he was extremely happy to go along with. He didn’t even realize what was going on until I pulled out the ring, and then… well. The rest is private.” He smiles. “He said yes though, obviously. Then he proposed right back to me to make a point-“

“I was _trying_ to keep you from being so smug about getting to it first. Emphasis on trying. I clearly didn’t succeed.”

“And when we got home, Mike insisted on giving me my ring since he had it already,” Harvey finishes, unfazed.

“Like you minded.”

“I never said that.”

“And then he cried too,” Mike adds. “And that’s the story.”

“I know you’re trying to expose me, but we’re sitting at a table with people who deal with emotions for a living. You really think I’m ashamed to admit to my feelings for you in this company?”

“You can’t argue your way out of this, you know. Rationalize it all you want, you’re still the biggest softie for me.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Rationalizing your feelings does sound like something you would do,” Donna remarks.

“That’s impossible, because I only ever do the smart and logical thing. I’m physically incapable of anything else.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Dear god. What am I getting myself into?”

“The adventure of a lifetime, honey.”

Mike leans over to Louis. “Is there a trial run or a 90-day return policy or something once I’ve said yes? Just in case I realize I’ve made a huge mistake in tying myself to that idiot for the rest of my life.”

Jessica snorts, shaking her head. “My god. How you two aren’t married already is beyond me.”

“There was no rush.” Harvey shrugs. “I knew one of us was going to ask eventually, but it wasn’t the right time before. Now it is.”

Mike meets his eyes, dropping all pretenses as he returns his smile. “Yeah. It is.” He sighs. “I just wish Grammy was still here so I could tell her all about it.”

Edith passed away about a year ago now, leading Harvey to push back any plans of proposing to give Mike time to process his grief first. Despite her age, the news came unexpected, though he doesn’t know if a long illness ahead of her passing really would have been a preferable option.

To Harvey’s surprise, Mike didn’t talk much about it after the funeral, carrying on with his life as best as he could with the new weight on his shoulders. He had his moments of grief, but they were manageable. The rest of the time, he tried to move on in the only way he knew how; by pretending he already had.

It helped that he was already seeing a therapist at the time, initially to deal with his sporadic but recurring panic attacks – helped Mike cope with his loss, and helped Harvey trust the fact that he _was_ coping and not just repressing it.

It was a rough patch for both of them, but they got through it. Harvey didn’t let himself be pushed away, and he sure as hell didn’t let Mike believe he wasn’t strong enough to carry his burden. It took time, and it was far from a linear process, but they made it through eventually.

And it did bring them closer together.

_“I thought I was going to be totally alone without her. And I do feel alone sometimes, but I know I’m not. There’s you. Always you.” He let out a deep breath, almost a sigh. “You’re all the family I have now.”_

He was, and as tragic as it sounded, there was comfort in the fact too. Judging by the tone of his voice as he said it, he suspected Mike was thinking along the same lines. They _were_ family, had been for a long time and always would be, going forward. With or without a ring on his finger.

Harvey still wasn’t certain if it was the right time to propose when he eventually did, but Mike’s reaction – his excitement dampened only by his annoyance that he beat him to it – told him that he’d made the right choice. Even if he finds him staring at nothing with that melancholy look on his face a little more often now than before. He would have been surprised if it hadn’t brought up some stuff that hasn’t quite healed yet.

But maybe it’s never going to, and he always would have mourned that this isn’t something he gets to share with those he lost, and that’s fine. Harvey understands, and he’s there to be with him and deal with the pain whenever he needs to. That’s what it’s about, after all.

They’ll figure it out, all of it. The good and the bad. Together. Not just as family, but as husband and husband, and sooner rather than later. Which is for the best, because Harvey really doesn’t want to wait any longer to call him that.

It’s true what he told him when he first broached the subject, that marriage was never really part of his plans, but neither was Mike, and that turned out pretty well for him. Once he brought up the idea, it took root in his mind, and he found himself longing for something he’d never wanted before. Tying himself to someone for the rest of his life never really appealed to him, but when that someone is Mike, things look very different all of a sudden.

There’s something about making it official that he’s committed to him and has every intention of keeping it that way, for all the world to see. About belonging to him, not just emotionally, but on paper too, so no one could ever begin to question it. About having proof that Mike is his, and he’ll be Mike’s in return for the rest of his days.

Harvey wants that with a veracity he didn’t think possible.

“She would have been ecstatic,” he tells him, taking his hand. “She already was when I told her I was going to ask you.”

Mike chuckles. “Figures. Sometimes I thought she was more in love with you than I am.”

It’s good to see the genuine happiness on his face despite the heavy memories the subject is bringing up, and Harvey only tears his eyes from him to look at Sheila when she asks, “So when can we expect the wedding? Have you set a date?”

“Not yet. I wasn’t lying when I said it was still fresh.” Mike huffs out a laugh. “But we did think… maybe this year. Next summer at the latest. Why wait?”

Harvey nods.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we’ve decided, of course. Hopefully we can figure out a date that works for all of us.”

It would be a shame if anyone here missed it. They may not see each other often, but he considers these people part of their family too, and all of them were there from the start, from his and Mike’s beginning to this very moment, telling them about their engagement. That they have to be there to see them take the next step too is a given.

“I’m sure you will,” Jessica says, the corner of her mouth lifting when he catches her eyes. “And I think I speak for everyone when I say that I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Aw, see? I knew you were lying every time you told me how annoying I am.”

“I was not,” she assures him dryly. “But I’ll admit that I do think fondly of your particular way of getting on my nerves, now that I find myself confronted with it less often.”

“He loves you too,” Mike says before he can respond.

Rachel sighs, looking between them. “God, I miss this. I miss working with all of you.”

“So do I. It’s always hard to say goodbye.” Jessica tilts her head. “But it’ll be easier to return to Chicago after this, knowing that we’ll all be coming back together soon. And for such a lovely occasion, no less.” She glances at Jeff, one hand on his knee as they exchange a smile, before she meets Harvey’s eyes. “The future’s looking bright, isn’t it?”

She’s often said that to him, not because she has so much faith that life is good, but because she has faith in them to make it so. You get what you work for, that’s what they both believe, but sometimes you get something else on top of that, something you haven’t earned, that you’re just given. It’s unpredictable, and it isn’t always good, but sometimes it’s something incredible, and all you can do is to hold on to it as much as you can and make sure it doesn’t slip away.

He nods, signaling his understanding. They’re both holding on to it. And he, for one, sure as hell isn’t going to let go again.

“It always is. But right now, it looks especially promising.”

Louis turns to Sheila at that, smiling before he leans in to kiss her. It’s a sweet moment, and Harvey almost feels like he’s intruding, but he figures that they have little qualms about displaying their affection in front of others from what Mike has told him.

Evidently, they’re in no rush to let it come to an end. The song playing in the background changes before they break apart, and Harvey glances at Mike as the first few notes wash over him, tilting his head in silent question.

Mike nods, and he smiles, pushing his chair back as he gets up.

“Well, I guess that’s our cue. If you’ll excuse us, my fiancé wants to show off his ballroom dancing skills.”

He holds out his hand, and Mike takes it with a grin, following him to the dancing floor.

“I can’t believe it’s taken three years for me to finally get to do this with you,” he says when they step closer, their hands entwined, arms wound around each other.

“You did show me what you learned before,” Harvey points out. A soft smile spreads on his lips at how close they are, enough for him to smell Mike’s perfume with every breath he takes.

“Please. Slow-dancing in our living room for a few minutes hardly counts as showing off my skills.”

“I mean, this isn’t a very challenging dance. If you really want to show off…“

“Shut up. I need to focus.”

He obviously does, the slight crease on his forehead as he concentrates on the steps making for the cutest sight Harvey has seen in a while.

“We definitely need to practice some more before our wedding,” he remarks, even though he isn’t half bad, really.

Mike rolls his eyes, not quite managing to hold back his smile.

“You’re lucky the mention of our wedding still makes me so happy that I can’t be mad at you at the same time.”

“Still? Do you expect that to change?”

Mike chuckles, shaking his head. “I guess I’m stuck with you, for better or for worse. Emotional attachment and all that.”

“That’s all this is, then? That’s disappointing.”

“Oh, sorry, did you think this was like, more than a marriage of convenience?”

Swiftly, Harvey whirls them around and dips Mike as low as he can, raising an eyebrow at the startled gasp he lets out.

“This look convenient to you?”

Mike’s hands dig into him, holding on for support, but the corner of his mouth lifts.

“Hm. No. Hot, though.”

Harvey smirks. Leaning down to close the distance between them, he catches his lips in a teasing kiss, all the while holding him securely around the waist. He’s never gonna let him fall again.

The kiss deepens before Harvey draws back, pulling him up and resuming their dancing like nothing happened, even though his lips are still tingling and his stomach prickles in the most pleasant way imaginable.

If they’d done it like this on stage, he would have caved in a manner of weeks.

“Of all the things our relationship could be described as, I don’t think convenient is one of them. Things didn’t exactly fall into our laps, did they?”

“Definitely not,” Mike agrees.

“No. We had to fight to be where we are now.”

He’d do it all over again, twice if he had to, and he knows Mike would too, so he adds mostly for the sake of it, “If you want easy, you’ll have to look for it somewhere else.”

Mike hums. “Well, luckily for you, easy isn’t something I’m interested in.”

“What are you interested in?”

“Adventure. Excitement. But safety, too. Home. Family. Comfort.” He smiles. “Happiness. You, most of all. Because I’m getting all those things from you. You’re kind of a great package. Even though you _are_ fishing for compliments right now.”

“Well, when my fiancé tells me he’s only marrying me because he got emotionally attached to me…”

“I mean, I did get emotionally attached to you. That’s kind of the whole point.”

Mike’s arm tightens around his waist, pulling him even closer than they already were. They aren’t the only ones dancing, but Harvey neither can nor wants to pay attention to anyone else, to see if someone’s watching the no doubt intimate scene, holding each other more than they’re actually following the steps.

He’s only focused on Mike, the smile on his face up close, how soft his eyes look as they drink him in, the lightness in Harvey’s chest that he’s so familiar with now and yet still not used to; that encompasses all the things Mike said to him, but most of all happiness.

“But that’s also just the starting point,” Mike carries on. “The foundation we built everything else on. I love you so much, and I fall in love with you more all the time, and honestly, who knows what’s going to happen in the years to come, but I really can’t wait to find out. With you.”

His thumb brushes the back of Harvey’s hand, the small gesture achingly tender.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Harvey smiles, sliding his arm down his back until they’re snugly nestled together, not an inch of space between them and still too far apart.

“Well, you’re not the only one who keeps falling in love more, honey. And before you accuse me of being sappy again, you started it, and we _are_ at a wedding. Can’t blame me for feeling romantic.”

“I don’t blame you for that. I only make fun of you for it.”

“To cover the fact that you actually love it, yes.” He raises his chin, gazing at him. “We should figure out a date soon. And everything else. Though I do think we should let Donna look for a venue. She has an eye for that sort of stuff.”

“Yeah, she does,” Mike admits. “I suppose wedding planning _is_ exhausting. It would help if she gave us a few pre-selected choices. As long as we still get a say, I’m actually not all that sad to pass the rest on to her.”

“She’ll find something that suits us,” he agrees. “And we can tell her what direction to go in if we have any preferences.”

“Sounds good to me.” Mike narrows his eyes, giving him a sly smile. “Hey, how do you feel about a themed wedding? I _was_ going to suggest a Star Trek theme, but now that would just make me jealous and sad because you’re never going to love me as much as you love Kirk.”

“I can’t change who I am, Mike. Take it or leave it.”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “The benefits outweigh the drawbacks. I guess I’ll take it.”

“Good.” Harvey brushes his jaw with his lips, the promise of a kiss more than anything. “You won’t regret it.”

Mike laughs quietly. “I have no doubts about that.”

“Let’s talk it through the next time we have an hour to spare then. The wedding, I mean. And what comes after that. You should start thinking about a honeymoon destination too.”

“Start thinking about it? I have a list, Harvey.”

“Oh, you do, huh? Well, I’m open to any ideas. My only requirement is to take you somewhere nice.”

“We’ll go over it when we’re home,” Mike promises. “I’m sure we’ll find something that’s to our mutual satisfaction.”

He smirks. “Certainly. We always do.”

“Really? This is no time for innuendo.”

“Why not? No time like the present, right? That’s what _they_ thought,” he says, nodding towards Louis and Sheila, who have made their way to the dancing floor as well, “and look where it got them.”

Mike watches them with a smile, then gazes back at him.

“And look where it got us,” he says softly. “I never thought this is where I’d end up when I stumbled onto that stage with a briefcase full of weed, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” Harvey echoes. “It’s been good, hasn’t it? Certainly not easy, but I still consider the past four years the best of my life. Despite everything, we had a great time.”

“The very best,” Mike agrees. “And we’re only just getting started.”

“The rest of our lives,” Harvey muses. “Sounds pretty good from where I’m standing.”

“I’ll say.” He searches his face, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You know, obviously I didn’t think so at the time, but agreeing to delivering that briefcase for Trevor was a damn great idea. Wouldn’t recommend it to anyone else under any other circumstances, but when it led me to this? I think it was the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“And I wouldn’t say _this_ under any other circumstances, but I’m inclined to agree.”

Mike hums.

“I never thought I’d get a second chance, you know? Never thought I deserved it, either. And then I got… all this. I couldn’t have anticipated that in my wildest dreams. I’m… very conscious of how lucky I am to be here, and I’m sure as hell never going to take that for granted.”

“So what I’m hearing is that I’m your Holy Grail.”

Mike snorts, his grin so beautiful that Harvey can only return it. “All of it is, yeah, but at the heart of it… that’s you.”

“Hmm. I like the sound of that.”

“I know you do. You’re the most conceited person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet…”

“And yet.”

Harvey’s smile softens. “Hey. You deserve this. All of it. Just make sure you hold on tight this time, because I’m not letting you get away again for anything.”

“Oh, I intend to. Where would I wanna go?” Mike shakes his head, the curve of his lips telling Harvey everything he needs to know. “This is as perfect as it gets. And you’re right here, which means that there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.”

“Good. Because this is where you belong, and no matter what happens, that’s never going to change.”

“Till death do us part?” Mike teases.

“And not a second earlier. That’s a promise,” Harvey vows, and feeling the truth of it in every part of him, it’s one that he’s more than happy to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... scene. Wow. It’s always surreal to see a long fic like this come to an end, but this time I’m extra emotional about it. I have loved writing this story so much. It turned into my anchor when the lockdown began and accompanied me up to this point, mere days before this semester from hell comes to an end. I can't imagine a better way to have spent this strange and uncertain time, and I sincerely hope you got something out of it as well! I have so much love for this story and poured so many of my own experiences and emotions into this, so it feels very personal. Thank you to everyone who read along and shared in that with me, and especially those of you who commented and let me know what you thought. It seriously means the world to me <3
> 
> I’ll be back with my next story very soon… hope to see you then!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to share this story with you guys! I really hope it brightens your days a little in these weird times we're in right now. I'd love to hear what you think, anything you want to tell me, or if you have any concrit to share. Once again, English isn't my native language, and I'm happy to correct any mistakes if you point them out to me! <3


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